


A New Beginning

by sonicmekhanlock



Series: The Power of Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Awesome Mom, BAMF!John, Blood, Bromance, Bullying, Car Accidents, Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hufflepuff!John, Johnlock Fluff, Kid!Lock, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, Never leaving, No Smut, Pining, Potterlock, Quidditch, Sherlock Caring for John, Slytherin!Sherlock, The East Wind is Coming, Triggers, True Love, Underage Drinking, Wedding, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicmekhanlock/pseuds/sonicmekhanlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day when he was 11, John received a letter that would throw him into a whole new world of adventures that he had no idea existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a photo set post on Tumblr where John and Sherlock were at Hogwarts, and it had one picture for every year that they were there and showing them develop their relationship, and I just had to write something. I didn't think it would turn out this long, and I REALLY didn't think I'd actually finish it, but here I am. This story is my very first fanfiction, and I appreciate any constructive criticism you may have, and I should also mention that it's been a while since I actually wrote something creatively like this so the word choice may be not at its best until the later chapters. I tried to stay as true to the characters on tv as I could. Also, the British wording may be a bit wonky considering I'm not from Britain... Anyways, enjoy, because I've been fangirling over this story since I started writing it.

John was sitting in the living room on a Saturday morning playing with his little army men when the confusing letter arrived. Mrs. Watson, while cooking breakfast in their home on Rusthall Avenue in London, had walked to the door and grabbed the mail, setting it aside on the kitchen table. Later on, after John had been called to the table and was enjoying the extra bacon Mrs. Watson had made, Mr. Watson took the mail and curiously fingered the smallish beige envelope.

 

            “What could this be? It’s addressed from a Ministry of Magic, whatever that is…” Mr. Watson informed his family. Right at that moment, the doorbell rang. Mrs. Watson got up and ran to open the door as Mr. Watson turned to John.

 

            “And it’s for you, John.”

 

            “Really? I never get letters except from Grandma!” He reached for the letter as Mrs. Watson escorted an older looking woman into the kitchen. The woman wore a purple outfit that suited her, and Mrs. Watson stood only an inch taller than her. Her blonde hair was cut short, but it curled on the ends and all in all, John felt that he could trust her right away.

 

            “Frank, dear… This woman came to talk to us about John’s schooling. She says to bring the letter that is addressed from the Ministry of Magic.”

 

            Mr. Watson nodded at the woman and they went and talked for what seemed like hours to John as he played with his little army men in his room, even making one flip into midair without tossing it. After a while, he got bored and went to lie on his bed, pretending to make snow angels on the dark blue comforter. Just as John was about to go downstairs to ask his mum about lunch, Mrs. Watson came into his room and sat John down on his bed. John, out of habit, took one of his army men and tossed it into the air like the hundreds of times he had that afternoon, but it stayed floating. Mrs. Watson was used to it, but John could see that it did unnerve her a tiny bit.

 

            “John, dear, we have some news for you. You know how sometimes you can do certain things that people normally can’t do?” She asked him while staring at the particular army figure twirling around in the air, “Well, it seems that you may have a gift. You’re going to go on a trip soon, to a new school. It’s a bit far away to the north, but your father and I will try very hard to come visit you sometimes.”

 

            “You’re not sending me off to an asylum, right? Cause I know it isn’t normal and I try to stop doing it in front of other people and-“ He blabbered on before Mrs. Watson interrupted him. She put her hand on John’s head and smoothed his hair back to comfort him.

 

            “No, no, no sweetheart. This is an actual school and you’ll love it there. The woman who came by is one of their representatives for London. Next Saturday we’ll be going to meet one of her collegue, who’s going to guide us through what you need to buy for the year. See, John, you can use magic. This school is to help you learn how to use magic, and there’ll be many more people like you there. You’ll come back home for the Christmas holidays.”

 

            “Oh, blimey, this is exciting! Real magic? Like in the books you read to Harry and I when we were little?” John’s face shone brightly with eagerness.

 

            “Yes, exactly like the ones from when you were little. When Harry gets home from Fiona’s house, we’ll announce it to her.”

 

            “Oh… she’s not coming too?” His shoulders dropped a little.

 

            “No, I’m afraid not. She can’t do the same things as you can.”

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

            “John! I heard you’re changing schools, I hope we weren’t too bad for ya!” cried John’s friend Matt from across the street. John grinned and ran across, checking both sides for cars first. He only just turned 11 and was relishing in the fact that he could be let out into the neighbourhood on his own. Their other friend David joined Matt before John could get across, and he greeted them both warmly. He remembered that they can’t know about magic and quickly thought of something he could tell them.

 

“Yeah, I am. Something about there being better education for me. It’s pretty further north, I think, and it’s a boarding school so I won’t be around during the year.”

 

“Oi, that sucks. They’re making you leave your friends behind!” David remarked in his normal Scottish accent, leading them to a nearby park.

 

“I know, David. It must be worth it if my mum lets me leave on my own to go there, right?”

 

“You got a point. Well, better make the most of the rest of the summer before you leave! Tag, you’re it!” Matt yelled suddenly and galloped off laughing. John and David looked at each other and raced off, chasing and tackling each other in an effort to win. John didn’t know how well he would cope without his best friends.

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

            Next Saturday finally came, and John fidgeted constantly in the back of the car until they arrived at their guide’s meeting place, the Leaky Cauldron. Harry sat next to him, fuming, as she had been supposed to go to a friend’s house that day.

 

            “Harry, please don’t look so gloomy. We need to support John!” Mr. Watson said to her when she got out of the car. “Anyways, its better coming here than going to Fiona’s. Those parties seem like a bad influence.”

 

            “Dad, please. They’re normal parties, nothing happens.” She rolls her eyes and looks around.

 

            “Ah, Mr. And Mrs. Watson! Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, although I’m aware it might not look like much. Hello young man, you must be John, and this is…?” A middle-aged man leaning on the ledge of the window said.

 

            “My name’s Harry.” She replied bluntly.

 

            John looked up at the man standing before them. He wore a suit, like businessmen wear, but he carried a weird heavy-looking coat on his arm. He seemed friendly, with smoothed out dark brown hair and brown eyes and a huge teethy smile.

 

            “So, John, are you excited? I understand it must be quite a lot to take in, learning all about this new world you’re going to get thrown into. I hope Mrs. Hudson explained some things.” He said to John.

 

“Yes, she came by a second time to explain. She did it so much better than my husband and I could ever do.”

 

“Oh, good, good. Anyways, my name’s Dan, and you can ask me any questions that pop into your head as we go through the day, alright?”

And what a day it was. After going through the Leaky Cauldron and being greeted by wizards and witches, they went through the disappearing brick wall, which drew a gasp from the whole family. John and his family had stared, wide-eyed, at all the hustle and bustle around them as they made their way through Diagon Ally to Gringotts. After having traded pounds for galleons, they went store to store buying John’s supplies, a white snow owl named Naya, and an aspen wand (“Ah yes! Perfect match, 11 inches of aspen wood with a dragon heartstring core.” Mr. Ollivander had said). They had even bought some Bert Bott’s Every Flavour Jelly Beans for Harry and John, which amused the two to no end. That evening, John’s family came home, exhausted from all the new experiences of the day. Before going to bed, Harry hugged John wordlessly and slunked into her room down the hallway. That night John could barely sleep, his head full to the brim off everything he had seen. He couldn’t wait to go to school, which he had been informed is named Hogwarts. Two weeks he would have to wait, and he felt that it couldn’t come fast enough. When it came close to the day where he had to leave, John went to Matt and David’s house and bade them good-bye. The night before the train was set to leave, John once again couldn’t sleep, his nerves tickling him with excitement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be adding some tags as I post the story, although i already know what I'm going to be tagging, which is why there's the tags for blood and stuff like that. Bear with me on that.

“Mummy, mummy, we have to go or else we’ll be late!” cried John, pulling on his fall coat. His baggage trunks and owl were already in the hallway close to the door. Earlier that day Harry and Mr. Watson had given tearful goodbyes to John, as they had to go to school and work. Mrs. Watson sighed and pulled on her coat a bit slower.

 

            “We still have time, John, don’t worry.”

 

            The ride to the train station seemed impossibly long. After a bit of confusion when they asked for Platform 9 and ¾, they finally proceeded to the right platform. Another family stood close to the platform, and John and Mrs. Watson watched as one by one they ran at the brick wall and vanished within. John looked up at his mother and suddenly felt a small pang of fear in his chest.

 

            “It’ll be alright, sweetheart.” Mrs. Watson told him, smiling. She pulled him into a long hug and kissed each of his cheeks 3 times, like she always did when John would be gone for a long time. John burrowed in her shoulder, her mousse brown hair falling over his head and hiding him partially. She straightened up after a few minutes and said,

 

            “I love you John. Have fun at school and write to me! If you ever feel lonely, hug your pillow and pretend it’s me. I’ll always know when you do and I’ll do the same, alright?”

 

            “Alright. I love you mummy.”

 

            He turned and pushed his cart, aligning himself with the wall. He ran fast straight at it, with no time to second-guess his action and suddenly he was on a completely different platform filled with families waving and kissing goodbye to their children. The volume rose considerably, and he made a small twirl to take in everything around him. Students ranged from his age to being much older, and it just seemed as if everyone was ecstatic to be on the platform. John strode cautiously to one of the train attendants and shyly asked,

 

            “Excuse me, sir, I was wondering if this is Hogwarts Express.”

 

            The man glanced down and smiled at John. “Why, yes it is. Here, let me help with your baggage. I’ll show you in.”

 

            John sat in an empty train room, nervously rubbing his fingers together. Suddenly the door opened, and a head with dark curly hair popped inside. He nodded, opened the doors wider and stepped in. The boy was wearing a long black expensive-looking trench coat and a blue scarf tied around his neck. Underneath he seemed to be wearing an expensive suit. He sat down and pulled his knees up to his chin, staring outside without saying a word to John. After staring for a few minutes, piercing blue-green eyes turned to him.

 

            “Um, hello.” John said nervously, “My name’s John, John Watson. What’s yours?” The eyes continued to gaze at him, their owner not answering. After awhile, John took out a novel about a middle-eastern civil war and desperately tried to ignore the staring young boy who sat in front of him. The train suddenly lurched, and the crowd outside got louder as goodbyes were shouted over the noise. Only once they were out of the station did the mysterious boy finally say anything.

 

            “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

 

            John looked up, startled out of the story, and sputtered, “What?”

 

            “Where does it take place, Afghanistan or Iraq?”

 

            “Oh, uh, Afghanistan. It’s quite interesting, actually. It’s about a doctor and his experiences there. My dad says I probably shouldn’t read something so heavy, but I want to be a doctor when I grow up. So what’s your name?”

 

            “Sherlock Holmes. Tell me, from which part of London are you from?”

 

            “Wha- How can you possibly know I live in London?” John shook his head incredulously.

 

            “The mud on your shoes is from an eastern part of suburban London. Also, your accent is of London.”

 

            “Oh, right. Forgot about that. But how could you tell by the mud?”

 

            “Obvious. The colour and texture is different from other parts of London.”

 

            “Okay. Well, that’s pretty extraordinary that you can tell that.”

 

            The train moved through the countryside, both the boys not saying anything after that. Sherlock, wrapped up in his expensive-looking coat, continued to stare at John with an eyebrow raised for some time before switching his gaze to outside. When the lunch trolley had come and gone, they went to change into their wizarding cloaks. Once back in their seats, John tried to speak again.

 

            “I didn’t know that magic existed until 3 weeks ago. My mummy tells me that there’s a whole society of wizards, and that sometimes people outside of that society can do magic too. Did you know about it all?”

 

            “No. They came to talk to us about it around 2 months ago, at the beginning of the summer.”

 

            “Ah, interesting.”

 

            The train started to slow down, and the bustle outside in the train’s hallway grew a bit louder. The two boys got up and gathered their things and followed the crowd outside, where a big man with crazy brown curly hair and a lantern was yelling, “All first years to me! All first years over here…” Once the platform emptied of older students, the big man started to talk to the group. John saw that they were about 40.

 

            “Welcome to Hogwarts! My name’s Hagrid…”

 

            Hagrid continued to talk as they were led to a lake, lined with small boats with lanterns. John almost tripped while getting into the boat but he managed to catch himself. They rode across the lake, and he put his fingers lower so that they could tread lightly through the dark water. John gasped in unison with everyone else as Hogwarts finally came into view, they’re breaths taken away all at once. The castle rose up, spires and towers rising to touch the sky. It was intimidating, but the castle glowed with a friendly intensity. He turned to look at Sherlock, who had gotten into his boat, but was surprised to see that Sherlock was only calmly looking around at the other students and not the school. John turned back to keep looking up at the school, and a girl behind him tapped him on the shoulder.

 

            “Irene Adler, and what’s your name?” She smiled warmly at him while biting her bottom lip, her dark brown hair shining in the lantern’s light.

 

            “John Watson, nice to meet you.”

 

            “I’m guessing you’re muggleborn?”

 

            “Muggleborn? What does that mean?” He gave her a questioning look, combing through his sandy blond hair nervously.

 

            “Oh, don’t worry, it’s not an insult. It just means you weren’t born the Wizarding society.”

 

            “Okay, yeah I’m muggleborn. You’re not then?”

 

            “No. I have an older sister here named Eleanor; she’s on the Slytherin Quidditch team. It’s a magical sport, you’ll learn about it soon. Oh, we’re here!”

 

            The boats slid up next to a series of docks, and all the students were escorted inside. They went up a series of stairs and waiting for them was the same woman who had come to talk to John’s parents. She spoke to them for a couple minutes, introducing herself as Professor McGonagall, explaining the Sorting Hat process to the group before escorting them through some more halls and into a grand room. The room was decorated with all of the school’s colours, with a huge flag indicating which House table it was. Lanterns floated in the air, and wispy ghosts flew around and through them, laughing and yelling welcome to the group. The ceiling was high above them, and 4 tables reached from one end of the hall to the next, all lined with students except for the far end. All eyes were on them as they walked towards the teacher’s table, and John tried to count the teachers quickly but wasn’t able to before Professor McGonagall began speaking again. In her hands she held a long piece of paper, from which she named students one by one to come sit on a stool. She would put a talking hat on their heads, much to John’s dismay, and they would each be sorted into different houses. John, being used to being one of the last ones called, waited patiently. The girl named Irene was the second person called, and she was sorted into Ravenclaw. After awhile, Sherlock was called up and after a bit of deliberation, he was sorted into Slytherin. His table cheered when he was sorted there, and John felt a bit put off from all those who sat there.

 

            Finally, it was his turn. Only 6 students were left, including him, and he walked up the stairs a bit shakily. He anxiously looked up at Professor McGonagall, and sat on the stool like all the other students did before him. As hundreds of students looked on, the hat was put on his head and it immediately began to speak,

 

            “Hmm… Interesting. Your life says one thing, but what you believe tells of another story, although not entirely different. However, young man, I believe you belong to HUFFLEPUFF.” The hat shouted, and the Hufflepuff table cheered in much the same way as the Slytherin’s table did. John grinned at the welcome and sat down on the bench next to a girl, which he remembered was named Molly. John glanced at the Slytherin table and saw that Sherlock was looking at him too. They both turned in unison when the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, began to speak. The next couple hours were a whirlwind of incredible food and conversation, and John was glad to finally be guided to the Hufflepuff’s Dormitory. The room was cozy the walls coloured with a soft shade of yellow, and the beds had dark yellow covers on them. He shared it with 3 other boys named Philip, Cory, and Travis. John doubted he would remember their names, but he still asked out of politeness. He settled in under his covers after letting Naya out to go fly and hunt, and he stared at the full moon that shone through the open window. John hugged one of his pillows automatically, knowing that of course his mother wouldn’t know he was, but he still felt a bit less lonely. Tomorrow would be his first school day, and his last thought was if he would see Irene or Sherlock in his classes before he drifted off to sleep.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

            The morning came quickly for John, and he raced to put on his new Hufflepuff uniform and grinned at himself in the mirror. He adjusted his Hufflepuff tie and ran downstairs, almost knocking into Molly.

 

            “Oh, sorry Molly! I didn’t see you there.”

 

            “It’s quite alright, John. What’s your first class?”

 

            “I have Charms first. I’m guessing they’re keeping all of the Hufflepuffs together?” John replied as they strode out of the common room together and headed towards the Great Hall. The walls they passed by were covered in moving portraits, colourful and ever-changing.

 

            “Yeah, we aren’t many. There are 13 of us in total, 8 boys and 5 girls. But so far all the girls have the same classes. Half of us Hufflepuffs have Herbology with half of the Slytherins, apparently. Maybe your friend will be in that class with us.”

 

            “Hopefully. His name is Sherlock; I’ll introduce you once we get to that class. I have a feeling he doesn’t like being social, though.”

 

            John sat with Molly and Philip, chatting away as he ate eggs benedict with potatoes on the side. They walked together to Charms, and the day went by smoothly except for Molly accidentally exploding their feather in Transfiguration, which Professor McGonagall only tutted at and gave her another. They laughed about it at dinner, and while they were walking out to go to their common room John brushed past Sherlock, who seemed to be going off on his own. Sherlock nodded at John and kept going, and John couldn’t help but watch him walk down the hallway and disappear out of sight around a corner. That night as the moon shone once again through his window, John lay pondering whether he should talk to Sherlock again, but he fell asleep before he could make any definite decision.

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The rest of the week went by without too much trouble. John was extremely happy to be at Hogwarts, although he did miss his family. Every second night he would write to them, and he always smiled when they sent back a reply and he got owl mail at breakfast. Thursday afternoon came around, and John accompanied a Gryffindor named Gregory to Potions before heading off to his Herbology class. He walked into the greenhouse and his spirits lifted up when Sherlock was indeed in his class. Sherlock was talking to another Slytherin named Jim Moriarty, who seemed to be notorious for causing trouble. John decided to stay out of their way, but his hopes were dashed as he saw the only empty spot left was between Molly and Sherlock. He didn’t mind sitting next to Molly, she was a nice girl, but he felt nervous about Sherlock. He sat down and immediately Professor Sprout shushed them all and began her lesson. Sherlock listened intently during the whole lesson, seeming to not notice John’s presence beside him.

 

When the bell rang to signal the end of class, Sherlock finally looked away from Professor Sprout. He looked up at John, who was stubbornly ignoring him. Sherlock tapped him on the shoulder and asked,

 

“Did you like the class?”

 

John looked down in surprise and answered, “Yeah, I did. It’s not my favourite subject but it isn’t terribly boring. Did you like it?”

 

“Hmm, it isn’t very challenging to me. I don’t know, perhaps I could grow to like it if you are in it. You seem fascinating to me.”

 

“Uh, okay then. Odd way of trying to make friends but I’ll accept your offer.”

 

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose up and his face lit up with a rare show of emotion, this time confusion and incredulousness.

 

“You’ll be friends with me? People rarely become my friends, I seem to scare them away.”

 

“Well, I don’t understand why. You seem like a nice enough bloke to me.”

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The fall season wore on steadily, and the bustle of Hogwarts life was in full swing. John learned more than he believed he could, happy to be away from his arithmetic class that he would normally be taking if he were still at home. The different spells and potions fascinated him to no end, although homework wasn’t very enjoyable unless if Sherlock was doing it with him. Sherlock seemed to remember everything, and it came quite in handy for John whenever he got stuck on a particular question. It was even more fun when Sherlock would start pointing out different things he noticed about people. They didn’t spend time together every day since they were busy and had different friends (Philip and Sherlock didn’t really get along well). Christmas finally came around, and John found it a bit hard to say goodbye to everyone who was staying behind. Before leaving, he noticed Sherlock sitting alone at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, and John went up to him and asked,

 

“Why aren’t you getting ready?”

 

“Cause I’m not going home. I hate spending Christmas with my family, if they can even be called my family. My brother Mycroft always humiliates me somehow.”

 

“Alright, then. Well, happy holidays. I’ll send you a letter or two, and maybe next year you could come spend it with my family.”

 

“Maybe, we’ll see.” Sherlock looked up at John and smiled a bit, and John waved and walked away. On the whole train ride home John felt a bit sorry for Sherlock. When I come back, he thought, I’ll bring him something to cheer him up. That Christmas went by in a blur of Christmas lights, and when John came back to Hogwarts, he gave him some of Mrs. Watson’s gingerbread cookies. Sherlock seemed delighted to have a present, commenting on the fact that he hadn’t gotten any. John felt happy that he could make his friend’s Christmas a bit better, and the rest of the school year went by happily.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking is mentioned, may be triggering.

When John got home, he found out that David and Matt had both moved away. It made the time between when he left Hogwarts and when he went back seem much longer than it was, since he had nothing to do. After a summer that seemed to stretch on for ages, it was finally time to go back to Hogwarts. The morning that he was supposed to leave, John was filled from head to toe with excitement that he could barely contain. Harry accompanied John and Mrs. Watson this time, although they bickered constantly the whole journey from the house to the station. John told them that they could accompany him onto the platform, and they rushed through the red brick wall. Harry screamed quietly in surprised protest, and suddenly they were once again in the Wizarding World. Harry caught the attention of a couple boys her age but she didn’t seem to mind, preferring to chat up another girl who seemed to also be a muggle.        

 

John bade his good byes once more for the school year to a rather embarrassed Harry and Mrs. Watson, and boarded the train. He was greeted immediately by Philip, Molly, Gregory (“Call me Greg! Only my mum calls me Gregory.”), and a girl named Sally, also from Gryffindor. He accompanied them to an empty train compartment, and the train was already moving when Sherlock once again stuck his head through the doors.

 

Sally, spotting him first, yelled, "Move it, freak, there's no space for a Slytherin in here."

 

John stared at her in shock, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Greg groaned and the others fidgeted without saying a word except for John as Sherlock left in a huff.  
"Why would you say that? We have space for him, and he's a nice guy."  
"He's always hanging out with that bloke Jim Moriarty, and anyways you know how he can tell certain things about people? Well, one day he'll create a whole drama between some people and they'll get hurt, just to deduce them. You've seen him, he gets off on it. I'd stay away from him if I were you."  
John just shook his head and crossed his arms. He had grown taller than Sally over the summer, but he still felt a bit intimidated by her.  He decided that later on he would go apologize, but when they arrived at the station Sherlock was nowhere to be found.   
That evening they watched as the newest first years were sorted, and him and Molly reminisced very quietly about their experience the previous year. John kept looking back at the Slytherin table searching for the familiar face, but Sherlock wasn't there. Halfway through dinner Sherlock strode into the Hall, although inconspicuously as people were already coming and going to and from various places in the castle. John immediately got up and jogged to Sherlock, calling his name to get his attention. Sherlock paused when he heard his name, and his face hardened when he saw who had called him.  
"Look, I'm sorry Sally said those things. You're not a freak, you're just more observant than others." John said, a bit out of breath but earnestly.  
Sherlock glowered at John and replied, "You looked like you were in no hurry to stand up for me."

 

"I argued with her afterwards, but you ran off."

 

"Well, sorry John, but just leave me alone for now. Go be with Sally, since you seem so quick to defend her."

 

Sherlock whirled around and walked to his table. John stood there, at a loss for what to do and his appetite suddenly gone. He turned towards the door and left, suddenly wanting to take a walk outside and get some fresh air. He walked around for what seemed like an hour, stopping only to sit on a ledge leaning on one of the columns of the main courtyard. He stared out at the grassy square and only went back inside when it was almost curfew and he was shivering, the night being unusually cold for the end of summer. He climbed the stairs slowly, taking one step at a time and pausing at one of the windows. When he arrived in his room, they all looked up at him and then hurriedly went back to what they were doing. John appreciated the fact that they honoured his privacy, so he prepared for bed without a word. He wrote a short letter and sent it off with Naya, and went and buried himself under his covers. There he lay, curled up in a ball, once again hugging his pillow. He felt less anxious to start the school year, and he wished desperately that he could be friends with Sherlock.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

John didn't have any classes with Slytherins until Friday, in which he had a block of Potions with a part of the Slytherins. He walked to class anxiously, all the while wishing Sherlock wouldn't be in his class, but of course that wasn't the case. John walked in with Philip and sat behind Sherlock and another Slytherin named Rachel. Rachel turned and glared at John in disgust, and whispered under her breath, "Mudblood."

 

Immediately the air seemed to thicken around them, and Philip blanched.

 

"Oi, watch what you say. Being muggleborn doesn't lessen the power of your magic, alright?"

 

Rachel laughs, turning back around and flipping her long brown hair, and says, "Right, Philip Anderson, I presume? You’re family isn't much better. Isn't your grandmother muggleborn also?"

 

"Shut your mouth or you're gonna get it, ya hear?"   
"Yes, do shut up. You might be unaware of this but I’m muggleborn too. Maybe before judging others that you don’t know, look closer at those around you." Sherlock piped up next to her.  
Rachel whirled around and stared in shock at Sherlock, and then immediately got up, huffed, and went to sit with another Slytherin further up the class. John moved his eyes towards Sherlock only to see Sherlock staring back with his piercing blue eyes. Sherlock smiled a half-smile and turned back around to focus on Professor Snape, who had just entered the room and was already speaking. When class ended, Sherlock gathered his books up quickly and rushed out without a word. John could only pretend nothing had happened while Philip waited for him to pick up his books. That night John thought of how the Wizarding World can be just as rough and confusing as the muggle world, and his feelings were still in turmoil when he drifted off to a fitful night's sleep.

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

John was sitting in the library studying alone when he noticed that Sherlock was on the other side of the aisle staring intently at him. John raised an eyebrow and beckoned him over, and Sherlock complied, pulling up one of the chairs next to him. It had been 3 months since the incident with Rachel, and they had only shared a couple words here and there since then. Sherlock looked down at the essay John was writing, noticing how many crossed out parts there were.

 

"Need some help?" he asked tentatively.

 

"I could always use some help. I’m having a harder time with potions this year, and this essay is just killing me." John replied in relief. He knew Potions was one of Sherlock's favourite subjects. They sat there working for 2 hours, unaware of the passing time and the other students milling around them. Only when the bell rang to signal that supper was about to be served did they finally snap out of their bubble.  
"Well, thanks for the help. I really appreciate it, Sherlock."

 

"You’re welcome John."

 

"Say, about that offer..." Sherlock paused in the gathering of his papers to looked up at John, "You know, the one to stay at my family's for Christmas. It’s still open, if you want to take it."  
Sherlock looked hopeful, but then he seemed to remember a distant memory and the light in his eyes died a little, "Mycroft is dragging me home this year. I can't accept your offer, although I could probably visit. I live in London, too. On Baker Street, and the flat 221b."

 

"That would be fun. My mum's intent on meeting you, she says I apparently talk about you a lot." Sherlock looked faintly amused as he stuff his papers in his bag.

 

"I guess I would be okay with that."

 

They walked together all the way to the Great Hall and split off to their respective tables. John felt much happier by far than he had in a little while, and the next month went by as quickly as his first year at Hogwarts. Christmas was a cheery time, and as promised Sherlock came and slept over for 2 days. John and Sherlock often went to the park nearby and ran around, throwing snowballs at each other and swinging on the swings. The amount of snow that year had been particularly light, so it wasn’t terribly difficult. John felt a bit of melancholy when Sherlock went back home with his mysterious 19 year old brother, and the holidays went by just as fast but with a bit of colour missing from it all. Finally it was back to Hogwarts once again, and John and Sherlock sat with Greg and Molly, Anderson (he prefers to be called Anderson instead of Philip) and Sally being off somewhere they didn’t know. They chatted about their holidays, Sherlock only listening half-heartedly while watching the snowy landscape move past outside.

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

Molly sat in the library with another second-year Ravenclaw named Samantha when John found her.

 

“Hey, have you seen Sherlock? He wasn’t in Herbology this morning.”

 

Molly answered very quickly, “No, no, I don’t think I’ve seen him today. I noticed he wasn’t in Herbology either but I didn’t pay it any mind.”

 

“I saw him, actually.” Samantha piped up, “Tall, dark haired, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen… Yeah, he was walking towards the forest this morning after breakfast.”

 

“Well… I’m not going to follow him in there, that’s for sure. It’s forbidden.”

 

“I’d follow him anywhere, to be honest.” She answered, and Molly stared at her in shock while John raised his eyebrows.

 

“Do you fancy him?” He asked, taking a chair from the side and settling down with them.

 

Samantha blushed, her blonde hair falling over her face as she leaned back in the chair. “Maybe, just a little bit. He’s so just so smart!”

 

John laughed and replied, “You don’t know the half of it, oh god.”

 

He then began to tell them about a study period they had had before the holidays, and before long they were rolling in their seats laughing as quietly as they could so that they wouldn’t disturb anyone else. That evening, Sherlock was pulled aside by Professor Snape during dinner, and John thought about it afterwards as he was preparing for bed. He wondered where Sherlock had gone and why into the forest, and decided to ask him the next day.

 

 

 

# ~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

The next months went by a bit fast, although exam stress weighed John down. It had turned out that Sherlock had found a clearing with a whole bunch of different potion ingredients that he had wanted, and he dismissed it as quickly as the subject had turned up. Sherlock and John worked more often than before in the library, Sherlock sneaking looks at next year's textbooks while John worked endlessly on his homework. It was extremely calming to work with Sherlock among the scattered piles of books and scrolls hidden in between the bookshelves. Come spring they began to go work outside, enjoying the sunlight and lack of snow. However, at the end of April, there began to be some trouble.  
"Oi freak, why’re you around John all the time? He needs to work!" Sally called at him, her big head of hair bouncing up and down as she marched down the hill.  
"If you haven't noticed, I’ve been helping him with his work, unlike you. I see you've climbing some trees, which Professor Sprout said not to do. You really shouldn't wear the uniform when you do that, it ruins your knees."  
John smiled a bit but kept his head down and murmured, "Incredible!"  
"Oh, hello Anderson. I see you accompanied Sally in climbing the trees." Sherlock looked at John through a side glance briefly and turned his attention back to the two figures approaching them.  
"Be quiet, Sherlock. I heard you've been causing trouble with Moriarty last week and got a detention for it. You're no better than us."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and began to ignore them. They spoke to John about class and threw words at Sherlock that John really didn’t appreciate, and he told them off for it. After awhile they left John and Sherlock at peace.  
"Hey, look what I can do!" John said suddenly.

 

He grabbed his wand from his pocket and balanced it on his nose, careful to not knock it off. His face scrunched up to keep balancing it and Sherlock giggled at the sight.

 

"You look absolutely ridiculous, John."

 

Sherlock grabbed his wand and tried to do the same and failed, and the two little twelve year olds laughed and hooted, getting odd glances from those who were walking on the nearby path. The rest of the day thankfully went by without any other incident, and that night John wondered why no one else bothered to befriend Sherlock.   
Later on in the month, when they were once again outside, Moriarty came by instead. John had always felt extremely unnerved by Moriarty, but Sherlock seemed fascinated by him. They spoke quickly about some kind of plan, and Sherlock abruptly told John that he had to leave. They walked away, deep in conversation. John felt a small pang of jealousy but quickly buried it. _At least Sherlock has a friend other than me, right?_ He thought to himself a couple hours later at supper. Even if Moriarty gave him a bad feeling, he decided to ignore it. Nothing too horrible could come from it.  
The rest of the year went by smoothly and much more quickly than John would’ve liked. Sherlock still helped John with his work, even with all the time he spent with Moriarty, and John passed his exams with pretty good marks, although Sherlock aced all of his. When it was time to leave to go back home, John felt sadder than the year before at saying goodbye to all his friends. He sat with Molly, Greg and Sherlock on the train, as was quickly becoming their custom. Sherlock seemed to enjoy refusing to call Greg anything other than Lestrade, and he quickly accepted the name change.

 

However, once again Moriarty came by with his singsong voice and asked Sherlock to come with him, promising to come back. He never did, and they arrived at the train station without even saying good-bye. The growing pang of jealousy felt like a stone in his stomach, and when John spotted Mrs. Watson close to the station's magical wall and he promptly hugged Greg and Molly. After yelling promises to write owl letters to each other they were off to where ever they needed to go. John pushed his baggage cart out into the parking lot, and as they reached their car he heard his name being called. John cheered up rather fast when he saw who was rushing towards them. Sherlock ran up to them, said a polite hello to Mrs. Watson and then suddenly jumped at John, hugging him tightly. John returned the hug, surprised at the sudden show of affection.  
"We'll see each other this summer, yeah?" He asked, glancing back at his rapidly approaching brother.

 

"Of course, why wouldn't we?" John answered, waving to Mycroft, who regarded him darkly.

"I'll write to you." was all Sherlock said, and he whirled around in the way only he could and ran back to Mycroft. Mycroft seemed to say something that annoyed Sherlock, and he looked back at John before beginning to stroll away. John watched them go off to an expensive black car, and Mrs. Watson pulled John gently towards their car.  
That summer was slow and desperately boring for John. All he had to do was read books and write letters, and John felt that there's only so many books you can read before reading gets a bit boring. He would sometimes go to the park, where he would sometimes see Harry drinking with Fiona and the girl she met at the station named Clara. John knew it wasn't right, but he left them to it for now. He knew he couldn't do much to help at his age, although he did feel bad about it.  
Towards the end of the summer, Sherlock finally came over. John was ecstatic to see him, and it seemed that Sherlock was too. They went out to the local pool and swam around, and they also played some magical chess, which Sherlock always won. When Sherlock left, John's life became a bit darker but he was used to that by now. Soon, however, school would start. He was really looking forward to going back to the magical world, until something dreadful happened.   
Harry got into a car accident with Fiona. John’s insides felt like they dropped through the floor and his whole head went numb and blank in utter shock. It was discovered that it was due to drunk driving, and John felt incredibly guilty for not saying anything before. When Harry came home he ran into her arms and cried, all other thoughts of sibling rivalry banished from his mind except for how close he had come to losing Harry. When it came the time to go back to the station once more, John held onto Harry tightly all the way until he had to board the train. After greeting Molly and Greg, he sat by the window and stared outside at his family. Mr. Watson had accompanied them this time, and they all waved at John as the train pulled away. John immediately missed them terribly, and Molly took John's hand as a way to comfort him. John felt the year would feel much longer than it used to, and he braced himself for what was to come.


	4. Chapter 4

At supper, after the sorting of the first years, John's spirits had been raised considerably, but he knew that the grief would come back and gnaw at his heart once he went to bed. Molly and Anderson seemed to know how John was feeling, as they were both aware of the incident with Harry. They worked hard to keep John's mind off of it, cracking jokes and not letting too much space in between stories, and he appreciated it greatly. He didn't notice that Sherlock would be staring at him from across the room, with a puzzled look on his face. John, completely occupied with the thoughts of his family, didn't even look up when he passed by Sherlock in the doorway. That night, for the first time at Hogwarts, cried himself to sleep. It was too soon after the accident that he went away, and the worry and fear for Harry affected him greatly. The Professors had been notified that his attention span would not be at its best for a little while, and John was left in silence in the back of the class. John barely processed the fact that Sherlock was once again in both his Potions class and his Herbology class, and for the first time in his Charms class. He also didn’t notice how Sherlock would always look at him with the same puzzling look as the first night they were at school.  
At the end of his first week, he went up to bed alone earlier than everyone else. On his bed, however, was a note. He picked up gingerly and saw that it was from the Headmaster himself, to go and see him in his office. Outside the Hufflepuff Common Room Professor Sprout was waiting, and she escorted John to a corridor, which only had a large column with a dragon spiraling around it. She strode up to the column and said, "Jelly Bellies," and the column began to twirl, revealing a spiral staircase leading up. Professor Sprout nodded encouragingly at John, and he cautiously climbed the stairs alone. Before him was a high ceilinged office, cluttered with magical artifacts and books. The walls barely had any empty spots what with all the portraits of the former headmasters and a multitude of other things. John had had an idea of how odd Professor Dumbledore was, but only once inside his office did John fully comprehend it.  
"John Watson! Good, good, you're here. I'll be down in a moment, take a seat in that chair over there!"  
John had looked up when Dumbledore began speaking, and he followed the old man's finger to where it was pointing. He quickly ran up the first flight of stairs and settled down in the cushiony chair opposite of another, grander oak chair across a desk covered in papers. John fidgeted in his seat and licked his lips, nervously continually observing his surroundings. His eyes settled on a giant red and yellow bird in one of the corners. The bird squawked when it noticed John watching, and immediately took flight and went to perch on the back of John's chair. For some reason, he felt a bit safer with the bird standing guard over him, and his tension slowly slipped away. Finally, Dumbledore came down the stairs and sat down in his chair, his big white beard folding a bit on the wood of the desk.  
"So, John. I've noticed you haven't been your normal bright self. I know all about what happened with your sister Harry, and I understand what you must be feeling."  
"How can you? Did you have any siblings?" John questioned him, suddenly angry, his grey eyes flashing darkly.  
"As a matter of fact, yes I did.” Dumbledore replied softly, watching John over his spectacles. “I still do. A little sister who in the muggle world would have been called disabled and an older brother whom I don't really know how he is."  
John slunked down further into his seat, guilty for reacting angrily at his Headmaster. He covered his face with his hands and sighed shakily.  
"I’m sorry, sir. It's just... I’m so worried about her. I knew her drinking was becoming a problem and I feel as if I’m the one at fault for not telling her to stop... and now look how that turned out."  
"John, we have someone watching her now. A witch by the name of Mrs. Martha Hudson. She takes care of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, if you didn't know. Their parents are indisposed at the moment, so she was tasked with taking care of the two. She lives in 221A Baker Street, and she watches muggleborn wizards and witches and their families for us. She has been watching you and Harry for some time, you must remember her."  
John was staring wide-eyed at Dumbledore. "She’s the woman that came to talk to me! She was the sweetest old lady I’ve ever met; I feel better knowing she's watching Harry. I didn't know she took care of Sherlock and Mycroft, too, though."  
Dumbledore smiled, and his whole face seemed to take on a look of playfulness. His eyes twinkled, and he reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out a small bag of Jellybeans and handed it to John.  
"Don't you fret too much, John. She'll be safe for the time being. Go enjoy your time here, and you'll be notified immediately if anything happens to her again, although I doubt it will."

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

Later on, as John slowly walked back to the common room, he smiled and knocked and shook around the bag of candy in his hands. He was about to turn a corner when Sherlock came rushing around the same one. They ran into each other and fell over on the marble floor, John hitting his head particularly hard while black spots flashed across his vision.  
"John! Are you alright?" Sherlock's voice rang out, seemingly far away. John groaned and put his hand over his eyes.

 

"Do you need to go to the hospital ward?" Sherlock's voice became clearer, and John became aware of fingers prodding his head.  
"No, no, it's fine. I've had worse, ill just probably have a bruise or something."   
John sat up and the fingers fell away. He opened his eyes and glanced at Sherlock, noticing the fact that his face was carefully blank except for the slight worried look in his light blue-green eyes. Sherlock had grown taller than John over the summer, and it showed as he sat kneeled on the floor, his cloak spread around him. John shook his head and whispered indignantly, "I’m fine, really. Don’t worry." Sherlock got up and held out a hand for John, and he took it gratefully.   
"So where were you off-"  
"Why are you out of-"  
They spoke at the same time, and Sherlock raised an eyebrow when they stopped together. Suddenly they heard footsteps down the hall. They both shared a look of horror as they realized it was past curfew. They galloped across the hallway and hid behind one of the stone pillars lining an alcove and a large window out looking the main courtyard. Sherlock was in front of John, blocking him completely out of view. Sherlock chanced a glance around the pillar and quickly ducked back. He turned his head towards John and mouthed the word Flitwick. John nodded and held his breath, his heart pounding, until the Professor was way past them. When it was all clear John leaned against the pillar and grinned in relief, the adrenaline making his blood move fast. Sherlock walked out from behind it and signaled for John to follow him, and John complied. He only recognized the path after a few minutes when they were close to the kitchens.   
"Were close to the Hufflepuff common room, Sherlock." He whispered, trying to be as quiet as possible.  
"Yes, I know. I'm aware of where all the common rooms are and how to get in."  
"Okay, I’m going to have to ask you another time why and how you even know that."  
"It's quite obvious, John. All you need to do is observe."  
"M'kay, I’ll make sure to observe, at your wishes."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and stopped in front of the hidden doorway. He said the password and the door rolled open, revealing the cluttered but cozy yellow Hufflepuff common room. He beckoned inside and said, "Talk to you later." and left without a backwards glance. John shook his head and ducked inside, running straight for the stairs and went up. He paused before opening the door to his room, and turned the knob, making sure it didn't squeak. He pushed the door open and went inside, already being dressed for bed. He took off his robe and hid beneath the covers, the bag of jellybeans hidden away in his night table drawer. A minute went by, and Anderson's voice whispered,  
"Where were you?"  
"Dumbledore's office. He wanted to talk to me, is all."  
His eyes were already drooping and he yawned. He turned his back to the room and stared at the yellow walls and promptly fell asleep, the emotional exhaustion taking him.

 

 

 

# ~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

            The fall season came and went once again, the days blurring together while John enjoyed his time at Hogwarts. As the leaves turned from bright evergreen to the oranges and reds of autumn, John became more invested in his classes. John felt incredibly proud one October morning when he finally turned a snake into a golden charm bracelet in his Transfiguration class, much to Professor McGonagall’s surprise. That same week he managed to be the first person in his Defence Against the Dark Arts class to defeat a Boggart. It had turned into Harry’s dead corpse, which was particularly disturbing for the rest of the class and managed to get him the rest of the day off.

 

            As it went on, though, John didn’t see Sally and Anderson as much (except for in his all Hufflepuff Defence Against the Dark Arts class, in which Anderson grumbled quietly in the back whenever John dared to speak). He sometimes saw the both of them in a specific corner of the main courtyard, whispering ferociously and then snapping around to stare at him as if daring John to do anything. It made him uncomfortable, and he started to avoid the main courtyard as much as he could. He wondered if it had to do with Sherlock, but decided very quickly that they didn’t know him and therefore had no idea what kind of boy he really was. John was never going to give up Sherlock as a friend, that was for sure.

 

            On the first snowfall, though, John ran out during their lunch break and enchanted a snowball to follow Molly around, causing her to laugh merrily. Lestrade (Greg refused to go by any other name, he felt as if it went better if he was called Lestrade by everyone other than just Sherlock) started to do the same, making some snowballs hit John in the back of the head. They ran off when Professor Sinistra called out at them to stop, running until they were right outside the Great Hall. John’s hair was almost completely white, and Molly remarked on how he looked like an old man. John blushed, and suddenly his hair was fluffed around, making it snow inside the hallway. He whirled around to see Sherlock smirking as he casually walked away, throwing away the snow left on his left hand. John gathered up the rapidly melting snow and threw it at him, and once again he ran away while laughing maniacally.

 

            At Christmas, Sherlock was allowed to accompany John to his Grandmother’s, who lived in Cardiff, during the holidays. They stuffed themselves with lots of candy and biscuits and cake, and tried to get interested in normal chess to keep the fact that magic exists from the rest of John’s family. Ultimately, it failed, and they reverted back to Magic Chess and made sure no one was in earshot and watching whenever they made a move.

 

            “I’m thinking of maybe joining the Quidditch team next year.” John informed his best friend.

 

            “Really? May I ask why before I point out how stupid your decision is?” John rolled his eyes and blushed, his lower lip jutting out indignantly.

 

            “Because it seems like such fun to play, and I feel like I’m doing so well in my classes that I can afford to play. It isn’t as if it’s the O.W.L.s next year, and anyway, I wanna fly around like in the movies. It still seems like a dream, sometimes, to live in a place where we can do magical things.”

 

            Sherlock nodded, and his eyebrows shot up and down as a way of communicating that he understands John’s point of view.

 

            “Still seems stupid. I’m going to have to help you even more with classes, aren’t I? Or maybe you could ask Irene.”

 

            John shot a shocked glance at Sherlock before commanding one of his pawns to move. “I haven’t talked to her much over the years. I’ve barely gotten any classes with Ravenclaws, let alone with her in it. Anyways, why would a Ravenclaw help a Hufflepuff like me? Our houses don’t exactly get along.”

 

            “Well, I’m in Slytherin, aren’t I? Hufflepuffs and Slytherins are usually kept apart, yet for our generation they seem to be doing something completely different. Look at us now: playing Magic Chess as if we weren’t part of two extremely different Houses that value completely different things.”

 

John sighed, and suddenly grinned. He commanded his Queen to move and announced Checkmate, and his Queen turned around and comically shook her finger at him. John, in the middle of celebrating with his arms in the air, looked down at his chess piece in confusion. Sherlock, shaking his head and chuckling a bit to himself, ordered his bishop to another square and announced smugly,

 

“Checkmate. Sorry, you almost got me but not quite.”

 

“Bloody hell, Sherlock!”

 

Sherlock starts cackling and Mrs. Watson cries out from the kitchen to not swear.

 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.” Sherlock whispers as they reset the game.

 

“Eh, I don’t know where I got the habit but it’s very fun when you get used to it.” He paused. “I wonder why I was put into Hufflepuff. The Hat almost put my in Gryffindor, if you didn’t know.”

 

“Well, you value bravery, but you are infallibly loyal to those you care about. Maybe that’s what the Hat was looking at.”

 

“Probably.”

 

The sudden call for dinner from Harry was heard by their ears and their stomachs, and they both rush to the table. The next day they go back to London, and Sherlock reluctantly goes back to his flat. That night, John receives a letter from Sherlock’s dark owl Archer, on which it is just written the words “ _What happened to Harry during the summer? She seems so subdued, and the first week of school you seemed so disturbed all the time.”_ John sighed at the letter, and took out a few pieces of parchment and wrote down the story from him seeing Harry in the park drinking to Dumbledore’s meeting with him, and he ended the letter with, _“Sorry, I thought I had told you. I don’t particularly like to think about it.”_

 

The next day Archer was waiting outside his window with another letter, and John quickly pulled Archer inside to keep the people milling around outside from seeing the owl. John pulled the letter out from the owl’s claws and released him back into the air, and opened the wax sealing the parchment closed. On it were only a couple words, an uncharacteristic show of emotion from Sherlock:

 

“I had an idea that that would be why, but I failed to understand your emotional side of the story. If I had known how deeply it was affecting you, I wouldn’t have stayed away from you. I should’ve been a better friend to you.”

John stared at the letter, and then slowly put it down on the desk close to the window. He stepped back and crossed his arms, still staring at the letter, wondering why Sherlock had stayed away. He then remembered how much Sherlock hated emotion, and shrugged and walked out of his room. His schoolbooks were still downstairs, and he still had a lot of work to do before the end of the holidays, it wasn’t going to do itself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who made it this far, I'd like to thank you for even looking at this fanfic and bothering to read it, you guys are stars among the clouds floating in the sky. Yeah, just ignore the fact that that metaphor may sound weird, I just hope my point got across. :D

The rest of the holidays went by relatively smoothly, as did the first couple months after going back to Hogwarts. Once in awhile, odd things would happen and a hallway would have to be closed for a few weeks or a couple students would get put into the hospital ward, but none of those events affected John or any of his friends. Once in a while John would stop in front of these blocked off hallways and try to see through the barrier that was put up by Mr. Filch, but he never could. It particularly annoyed him, though, when a hallway that he used pretty much everyday with Molly to get to Charms got blocked off, and he had to find another way around.

 

John took Sherlock’s advice partially to heart and he started to speak to Irene, who seemed amused whenever he came up to her. John always felt a bit out of his depth, considering he spent most of his time with Irene and Sherlock and they were both geniuses in his standards, and it didn’t help that her striking figure seemed to put a natural spell on everyone around her. It felt much more natural, however, when it came to Sherlock: Sherlock seemed to not know when to turn off his genius abilities. Sometimes it made John’s day a bit better, but at other times it was just a drawback.

 

“How the hell can you even tell that my Great-Aunt had twins? They weren’t even mentioned at Christmas, and I know that because my Great-Aunt and my Grandmother had a row and never spoke again, and as a rule we never speak about them. Let alone the twins!” John threw his hands up in the air in utter disbelief and stomped in a melted snow puddle.

 

“Well, I observed that there was a particular picture frame containing an old picture, one of your Grandmother. She wasn’t alone originally in the picture: half of it had been cut out, and a bit of a dress showed through at the bottom. I would’ve guessed Great Grandmother, but your Grandma talked about her mother fondly and endlessly at dinner on Christmas Eve, so sister is more likely, therefore Great-Aunt. Then your mother and Mrs. Freeman were talking about twins and triplets that same night, and your mother remarked on how she’s surprised she didn’t give birth to twins due to the fact that there’s a history of twins in her family. So putting that together, I guess that you had a Great-Aunt with twins.” Sherlock shrugged as if it were nothing special, but John just stared at him, annoyed.

 

“You know, I really do wonder what it’s like to have a super brain like yours. How do you even put up with us mere mortals?” John wrapped his yellow and black scarf tighter around his face, trying to keep in whatever warmth he had, even if it was one of the warmer days of spring. An unintelligible yell came from behind them, and suddenly John was up in the air by his foot, dangling helplessly. He yelled out in surprise, and he was thrown into a nearby tree, his breath knocked out of him. He could hear cackling from afar, and he turned around in difficulty without falling out of the tree to see Moriarty running away from Sherlock as he shouted a charm at him.

 

John suddenly lost his footing with a shout but caught himself again on another branch, holding on desperately.

 

“Sherlock! Help!”

 

“I’m right here, just give me a moment! Levicorpus… Liberacorpus.”

 

John was lifted gently into the air and brought back down to the ground. Once his feet touched solid earth he sat down, not caring about the wet ground. He breathed out air that he had no idea he was holding, and Sherlock grabbed him by under his arm and lifted him back up. John shook off Sherlock’s hand and glared at him, the adrenaline feeding itself into anger.

 

“Well, I guess I must thank you. I’m sure this hasn’t brought down your opinion of Moriarty, now has it?”

 

“We haven’t spoken since second year, John. I realized how bad of an influence he was on me and I decided to stay away from him. Unfortunately, he tends to take out his anger at being ignored on the people I usually hang around. Namely, you and Molly the other day.”

 

“Molly? I didn’t know you were around her when I wasn’t there.”

 

Sherlock nodded towards the school and they started to make their way back as he spoke.

 

“I needed some herbs for an experiment I’m conducting from Professor Sprout but I had already gotten my share, so I asked Molly to go get some for me. She usually does what I want her to, anyway.”

 

“Well, she does seem to have a crush on you…” John thought back to the past several months at Molly’s reactions when Sherlock was around. All the signs were there: she was nervous, spoke in a breathy voice and seemed to hang on Sherlock’s every word.

 

“You haven’t had any interest of the sort, haven’t you? I don’t even remember a time where you looked at a girl.” John pointed out.

 

“No, no one interests me. I’d rather my books and my experiments over the boring company of some of this lot.” Sherlock waved a hand at the students out in the courtyard.

 

“Fair enough. I, however, like this girl named Jeannette. She’s a Gryffindor, wonderful girl, black hair and brown eyes.” John blushed as he said that, feeling a bit guilty for imposing emotional conversation on Sherlock. Sherlock gave him a side glance and a small smile and replied,

 

“I know who she is. She wants to be a Muggle Studies teacher, and yet she isn’t even born out there where we come from.”

 

“Oh, don’t be so judgmental. Some of the people here aren’t muggleborn and yet have a good amount of knowledge on the muggle world.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and they entered the milling crowd of students going off to various classes. Over the next few months, John noticed that Molly’s crush on Sherlock didn’t fade away but seemed to grow bigger, while his own feelings for Jeannette did the same. At the beginning of May he asked her if she would be his girlfriend, and she automatically said yes. A few weeks later, however, John was suddenly broken up with and all the emotion he could muster was apathy. He realized that that must be why their relationship broke apart, but he couldn’t bring himself to care very much. Sherlock seemed endlessly amused during the entirety of his and her relationship, and John guessed that Sherlock must’ve known that would happen all along.

 

As the end of the year finally came around, and all the exams are finally written, John sits back down in the train; Sherlock taking the opposite seat while Lestrade and Molly took their seats beside them. John glances around the little room and says,

 

“It’s a bit saddening that I won’t see this for another 2 months.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. But at least when we see it again, it means we’ll be coming back!” Molly exclaimed.

 

“If nothing too horrible happens to us, at least. Let’s just hope my sister doesn’t dye my hair bright pink like she promised she would.” Lestrade added, grinning to himself.

 

Molly and John burst out laughing hysterically at the thought, and even Sherlock added a chuckle. The ride home was one filled with companionship, and as they all stepped off onto the platform they all waved their good byes. Sherlock accompanied John to the outside of the station, and John motioned to his mother’s car.

 

“So, I’ll see you this summer, okay?” John asked tentatively. Sherlock nodded once, his now fully green eyes twinkling.

 

“I’m sure we will hang out often. Mycroft has a new job with the government and he won’t be there very often, so I’m sure he’ll allow me to see you.”

 

“Good. See you then!” John grinned a toothy grin and ran off to Mrs. Watson, who stood next the car watching them. That night, John lay in his bed smiling and remembering the memories of this past year, but he also wondered what the next year could bring. Anything seemed to be possible at that magical school.

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

A few weeks later, a summer breeze blew through John’s open window in the late morning. John stirred, and slowly opened his eyes and groggily yawned, then looked over at Sherlock. Sherlock lay on a mattress next to his bed, completely curled up in a thin blanket in a fetal position. John shook his head in dismay at the amount of childishness that showed through when Sherlock was asleep, and got up to get dressed and write a letter to Molly. About a half hour later Sherlock snapped up right out of sleep and turned around, observing his surroundings. He grinned, closed his eyes again and fell back on the bed, a sigh escaping his lips. John was all right with Sherlock sleeping a bit longer; he hadn’t been having a good summer and John’s house was the only place he could seek refuge.

 

Mycroft had informed Sherlock none-too-gently that their mother had died during their last school year, and Sherlock was left coping on his own. John wondered what exactly he would be feeling at the moment because the fact that Mycroft had hid the fact that one of his parents had _died_ was something that he found almost unforgivable.Mrs. Hudson, having taken pity, overruled Mycroft’s will and let Sherlock go to John’s for a few weeks. John, delighted as he had been to see his best friend so soon, felt heartbroken when Sherlock appeared at his doorstep with eyes gleaming red from crying. He had no idea how close Sherlock actually was to his mysterious ( _his whole family is mysterious, including him,_ John would think often) parents, but it seemed he had been close enough. John had promptly pulled Sherlock into a hug, and had fished out the leftovers of the jellybeans Dumbledore had given him. John felt that it was a good time as any to use their healing powers, even though it was just psychological.

 

It was his second week there, and Sherlock had slowly morphed from a sad lost boy to his normal deductive self, barely showing any affection through. John finished his letter to Molly and started writing one to Lestrade when Sherlock groggily murmured,

 

“Whatch’you doing?”

 

“Writing some letters to Molly and Lestrade. I’ve been invited to Lestrade’s house for a day or two, there’s some special gathering they have among wizards there every year… And you’re invited too. Do you want to go?”

 

“Yeah, sure, why not.”

 

“Hmm, I should ask you to do things more often when you wake up, you’re not normally this accepting.”

 

“Don’t tempt me with choosing no.”

 

John laughed quietly and sealed his two letters, attaching them to Naya and sending her off.

 

“Breakfast is ready, you lot!” Mrs. Watson called from downstairs. The two teenagers shared an eager look and raced each other downstairs, trying to get to the table first. Harry was already there, twirling around her fork and seeming impatient.

 

“Mum, you know Clara, right?” She began, much to Sherlock and John’s surprise. She never spoke at breakfast when Sherlock was around.

 

“Well… I really like her, and she really likes me back, so…”

 

Mrs. Watson stopped moving around and straightened up. John and Sherlock both made a show of digging into their pancakes while Harry kept speaking.

 

“I’m thinking of asking her out. Mum, I don’t know what you and Dad think of lesbians and gays, but I-“

 

“It’s alright with the both of us, dear. We’ve been wondering when one of you would have the guts to ask the other out.”

 

Harry looked incredibly relieved, and she could not keep a grin off her face as she ate her pancakes. Right after breakfast, John watched her run down the street and around the corner, on her way to Clara’s, from the living room window. Sherlock was behind him on the couch, watching a TV programme about lizards, of all things. John shrugged to himself and thought; _well this is going to an eventful summer, for once._

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

            About a week later, Mr. Watson drove the two teenagers to the train station, and suddenly they were off north into the countryside. As the train slowed down at their stop, Sherlock pointed out Lestrade standing in the shadows of the platform. They ran out with their backpacks in tow, and greeted each other. John gave Lestrade a fist bump while Sherlock and him only nodded, respecting Sherlock’s need for physical distance. They walked down a dusty road outside of the station, and after around 20 minutes Lestrade told them to go through the trees to their left. At once a clearing appeared around them, and John looked around in amazement.

 

“It’s to keep muggles out. They just see densely packed forest and if they don’t have a wand on them, they just go straight through to the other side.” Lestrade told John, amused. John’s eyes settled on a cozy looking house on the far side of the clearing, and at that very moment a little girl with blonde pigtails and dark pink overalls ran out of the house.

 

            “Greg! Greg! Greg! Mummy’s making strudel cake! Just like the kind the muggles eat!”

 

            Lestrade looked back at John and Sherlock, grinned, and crouched down to look at his sister in the eyes.

 

            “Lucy, this is Sherlock and John, they are muggleborn. If you want to ask them questions, ESPECIALLY Sherlock,” John laughed while Sherlock gave Lestrade a look of horror, ”you can ask them.”

 

For the next 2 days, Sherlock is bombarded with odd questions like, “Are there any sandwiches in the muggle world?” or “Do the muggles know about the yetis?” to which, by the end, only earned her an eye roll. Their first night there, after Molly joined them some time after supper and the party was in full swing, one of the wizards let off a couple fireworks. John was especially impressed, having never seen magical fireworks before. Their colours dazzled the crowd, with dragons and fairies and centaurs made of light flew up and around them. John couldn’t believe his eyes, and that night he dreamed of mystical animals with mismatched colours.

 

            Once they were back home, Sherlock had to take his leave to go back to his flat. John patted his shoulder as a way of saying good-bye, and watched as their expensive car took away his best friend back to the other side of London. His thoughts went out to what Sherlock must be feeling. He sighed and braced himself to wait for the rest of the summer until he could go back to Hogwarts. He went upstairs and settled down at his desk, pushing a red apple onto it and looked outside. A summer breeze blew through his window again, and John smiled to himself. He was okay with waiting, he decided, if it meant he could go back to Hogwarts on the end.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

            The Hogwarts Express whistle blew as John appeared through the magical brick door, Mr. Watson trailing behind him. John glanced around at the familiar sight and basked in the different words spoken within a magical environment, so different from what was outside. He turned around and hugged his dad, then proceeded to the train, as it was about to leave. John went inside and saw Lestrade waiting outside their normal train room, and he waved at John. He made his way towards him; fist bumping Lestrade while going into the little room to see Molly, Irene and Sherlock. John sat by the window per the normal seating arrangement and greeted his old friends happily.

 

            As the countryside went by, they each settled into their pastimes, John reading a book about fantasy battles between knights while Lestrade and Sherlock played magical chess. Irene sat between the 2 boys and watched the game develop, once in awhile whispering a move to Lestrade. Molly sat next to John and knitted quietly, humming a little to herself. After a couple hours Sherlock rose to go change into his uniform while Irene took his place at chess. He returned a few minutes later, not wearing his cloak. They all looked up automatically and then returned to what they were doing, all except Irene, who regarded him with a sneaky little smile.

 

            “Why, hello handsome.” She remarked, raking her eyes across Sherlock’s figure. Sherlock had grown much taller over the summer, and his figure had become lean and his cheekbones more prominent. His hair lay unkempt and curly on his head, and he wore the normal white button up shirt with his Slytherin tie. John had to glance up quickly one more time as she spoke, and silently agreed with her.

 

            “Um, okay then. Nothing really new here, Irene.” He replied pointedly, his voice much deeper than it was a month before. He rolled up his sleeves and scooted around the chess table and settled back into his seat, reclaiming his position in the game.

“As a matter of fact, I do believe your appearance has changed, Sherlock.” She answered, making Sherlock blush slightly. For the rest of the train ride she flirted with him, and John felt Molly fuming jealously beside him. It was interesting to watch, and John felt a small pang of jealousy himself, although for what he didn’t know. Sherlock’s reciprocation surprised him even more than anything else, and it began to feel slightly awkward in the train. Once they were out on the platform and walking to the carriages he blew a sigh of relief at being out of the tense situation. He beckoned for Molly to follow him, and they joined two other Hufflepuffs in a carriage up to the castle. The trees were already changing colours with the impending fall season, and John wondered if it might mean something. He felt as if a lot was going to change this year, although he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. He smiled at Molly and patted her knee, and she smiled back in understanding. He was already starting to miss the small summer breeze from 2 months before as the castle came into view, as incredible as ever.


	6. Chapter 6

That first week was the Quidditch tryouts. John, having asked for a flying broom for his birthday and had practiced all of the rest of the summer, was nervously waiting for the call to go onto the field. An older student named Mike Stamford stood next to him, looking out at the sunny Quidditch field and the light green grass that ran its way across.  
"You can't ask for a better day to try out. There's no wind, no rain, no snow. It's perfect." Mike suddenly said to John, turning to him and grinning, "What position are you hoping for?"  
"I would love to get Seeker, to be completely honest, but I doubt I’ll even make it onto the team."  
"Why is that?"  
"I don't know, just a feeling."   
"Aw, don't be so hard on yourself. Who knows, considering we need a new Seeker you might just get it, and you seem to have the build for it under all that Quidditch gear." Mike shrugged and patted John on the back. From outside came a horn blowing, indicating it was time to go out.  
The tryouts went very well. John and a third year Hufflepuff named Avery were trying out as Seeker, but even John had to admit Avery had no idea how to fly. He tried to stifle his giggles as Avery wobbled around a couple feet off the ground.  
That night, John lay in bed pondering over the day's events. He had had Potions with Sherlock, once again, and he also had his Astronomy class and one of his Charms classes that day, plus the Quidditch tryouts. It had been a busy day, and John couldn't wait to tell Sherlock that he had gotten the position he wanted. He eventually fell asleep, a small smile staying on his face for a long time afterwards. The next week would be his first game, and John was extremely excited for it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The crowd outside was roaring, cheering on the teams coming out of the bleachers. John looked up at the crowd in awe. All the people up in the bleachers seemed like ants from so high up, and John felt a bit less nervous knowing people won't know completely where he is. Those thoughts were squashed when he remembered he was the only seeker, and he groaned a bit to himself.  
John gazed over at the opposing team, Ravenclaw. Irene had tried out too, getting the position as one of the three Chasers, along side another Ravenclaw of their year named Amelie. Irene waved at John and took her position, holding her broom.  
"Brooms up!" cried Madam Hooch, "Mount your brooms!... Rise!"  
They rose up in the air, John a bit unsteadily due to nervousness. He shook himself a bit and steadied, watching the Golden Snitch in Madam Hooch’s hand. John braced himself on his broom, and the whistle blew and they were off, zooming around the stadium.  
John flew up higher above the game, frantically watching for where the Snitch was. The Ravenclaw Seeker was doing the same, and they watched each other as well as the air. The air around them wavered in the heat, and then suddenly John heard a little zooming sound behind him and he whirled around, spotting the Snitch flying quickly away.   
He bent down on his broom and flew off, chasing the Snitch and making desperate swings at catching it. The Ravenclaw Seeker joined him a few seconds later, and they both flew around in crazy circles, dodging any of the other balls flying around the stadium.  
The game went on for an hour, Ravenclaw being in the lead 40 - 0. John felt worried that he might not be able to catch it, when suddenly he instinctively made a wild grab and he felt cold metal in the palm of his hand. The crowd took a second to react, then cheered even louder as John held up the Snitch for Madam Hooch to see. He flew back to the ground, getting a few pats on the back from his teammates. The two Beaters, brothers Benny and Martin, picked him up and put him on their shoulders, and suddenly the whole Hufflepuff House came running at them yelling and screaming. John grinned endlessly and felt immensely proud of himself. As he bobbed above the crowd, he felt as if he was at the top of the world in that moment, and he closed his eyes. Adrenaline coursed through his bloodstream, and he opened his mouth and yelled, "YES!"   
He opened his eyes again and he saw his friends running towards him, Sherlock among them. He was put back down on the ground, and the crowd parted for him to run to them. They grabbed at him and Molly pulled him into a tight hug, laughing in glee and congratulating him. They stepped apart and John smiled at Lestrade and Sherlock, but Sherlock was watching the Ravenclaw team and Irene. He turned back to John and patted him on the shoulder, and turned to walk to Irene.   
"I bet you they're gonna go out some point soon." Lestrade predicted, shaking his head as he stepped closer to John, "I don't understand, though. I thought Irene only liked girls."  
John gave him a surprised glance. "I didn't know she liked girls, or anyone for that matter. But I guess we can give her credit; sometimes people are fluid between who they like."  
"Aye, that's true. I just hope he doesn't her heart, or worse, she doesn't break his heart. Even if Sherlock‘s like a machine sometimes, he still has a heart buried somewhere in there."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

John trudged through the snow on one of the many bridges of Hogwarts. The snowfall had come very early this year, and it rose to an inch up on the ground and was already melting, which stuck to John’s boots as he hugged his cloak around his shoulders. He licked his chapped lips and looked up at was ahead of him, and he saw three figures standing in the archway.

 

“Oh, hello John!” Said one of them, and John could see that it was Amelie. The other two he knew were named Cassandra and Alanna, both second years, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. “We were just talking, actually. They want to be on the Quidditch team next year, and they were wondering if there was any type of training they could do to prepare for the try-outs.”

 

John nodded and thought for a few seconds, and answered, “Well, learning how to fly a broom at high speeds would be a very good start. I had no training in that, and I’m surprised that I actually made it but don’t count on the same luck happening to you.”

 

The two girls nodded and grinned, then they turned and ran away. John watched them go in confusion while Amelie laughed.

 

“You’re quite the looker, John. They’re shy around you, that’s all.”

 

John turned to her and smiled, “Did you basically just say that I’m handsome?”

 

“Yes, I did, but don’t get any ideas. There’s a Ravenclaw who plays the banjo, I think you’ve seen him. I’m going more for him.”

 

“Ah, okay.”

 

“Do you have anyone you’re going for?”

 

“Not at the moment, no.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

  John walked alone in the main courtyard, his yellow scarf wrapped up closely around his face and his cloak clutched tightly around him. Molly and Lestrade were studying in the library for their Arithmancy class, while Sherlock and Irene were off somewhere doing whatever couples do. They had developed a very close relationship in the third week of school and at some point they became a couple, still much to John’s surprise. John shook his head in disbelief, thinking, Sherlock in a relationship? He would've never guessed it could happen but there it is, breaking everyone's expectations like he always does.   
John went back into the school, releasing his hold on his cloak and untying his scarf. It felt nice to go out and get some air since it always feels too enclosed during winter. He made his way to the Hufflepuff common room, pausing to look inside the Great Hall for a second before pressing on. When he entered the common room he noticed it was empty except for a girl named Mary, who was in his year. In a split second decision he strode up to her and shyly said,   
"Hello. I was wondering if you could help me with my Potions work."   
She looked up at John, gestured at the empty seat beside her, then smoothed her short blonde hair back behind her ear and replied, "Sure. Snape made it particularly hard this time, although once you get the hang of it, it all starts to make a bit more sense."  
John grinned at her and opened up his textbook.  
"So, about the rose petals and frog's blood combination..."  
They sat there for hours, and John realized that he really enjoyed spending time with Mary, so much that they barely realized time was passing. They joked around a lot and yet they worked together very well. John was surprised when the bell rang for supper.  
"Well, uh, thanks for your help, Mary." John said, smiling at her.  
"We should do this more often, I remember so much more working with you than just studying alone." she replied, stuffing her work papers into her bag. They walked together to the Great Hall, and Molly was over the moon to see them chatting.  
"Oh, this is marvelous! I hoped you two would become friends at some point, you're so alike!" Molly said, waving her hands in excitement. John and Mary grinned at her, settling down at the Hufflepuff table together. John chanced a look at the Slytherin table, but Sherlock was nowhere to be found. He shrugged and turned back to the conversation before him and the feast of food that appeared, putting Sherlock out of his mind.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Christmas came and went, although this time Sherlock went to Irene's instead of John's. John accepted the fact that Sherlock had a life outside of his and thoroughly enjoyed his holidays. Mary, also being muggleborn and living outside of London, came over for one day in the second week of their time off. He was growing very fond of Mary, John realized, and he didn't mind in the slightest. Once they went back to school, John found himself spending more and more time with her, and he once saw Molly giving each of them an encouraging nod.  
"So." John whispered the first night they were back, leaning on the ledge of the northern tower.  
"So...? We're here, and you did say you wanted to talk to me in private." Mary replied quietly, her eyebrows raised. John got the impression that she knew exactly why she was here.  
"Yeah, so... I really like you a lot, Mary. I kinda fancy you, even... And I was wondering if you feel the sa- Hey why are you looking at me like that?" John remarked incredulously.  
"Because you're adorable. Absolutely adorable, how can you even think I wouldn't feel the same?" Mary answered, her cheeks pink and her gaze pointed at the forest in the distance. John looked away and back at her, and then slowly touched her hand. She smiled and turned her palm around so that they could hold each other's hand. His heart soared at the touch of palm against palm and fingers laced through the others. They stood like that for a while and finally went back inside, the cold taking command of their choices. John thought he couldn't feel any happier, it was even better than winning their first Quidditch match. John laughed airily at the thought, and as if sensing what he was thinking, Mary hooked her arm through John's. They slowly walked back to their common room, their hands and hearts entwined.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The months began to go by, sweetened by Mary’s presence. She made a nice addition to their group, Lestrade being eager to finally have a Care of Magical Beasts partner to study with. Molly and her made a fabulous pair, and John felt a bit relieved that she was so accepted. Sherlock came by a couple times with Irene but they were both insufferable, acting as if they knew better, and eventually one of them would ask the couple to leave.

 

When March Break came around, everyone left for the week but John decided to stay behind, needing to catch up on homework. Sherlock stayed behind also, and they finally had their first moments alone since the beginning of the year as everyone had gone home for the holidays. They found themselves in the Great Hall, Sherlock brewing some kind of potion while John read and scribbled notes in his Herbology textbook. It was very quiet in the Hall, which isn’t the norm as it is during the school year. John looked over at Sherlock from the corner of his eye, smiling a little bit when he saw the features riddled with confusion.

 

“I don’t understand, why isn’t it obvious? I’m clearly missing something.” Sherlock murmured, throwing down his book in frustration on the wooden table, “The liquid is supposed to turn yellow, not green!”

 

“Oh, I made that mistake the other day. You absolutely need to measure out your acorn dust perfectly or else it does that when combined with the poison ivy. Then you absolutely need to mix it around 6 times counter-clock-“

 

“Of course! Counter-clockwise! I’ll be right back, oh this is just tedious.” Sherlock picked up his small cauldron and carried it out of the room, coming back about 10 minutes later with a refilled one. He put it back gently on the little spit of fire with ease, and John watched, fascinated, as Sherlock began remaking the potion with a professional air that only Professor Snape seemed to be able to achieve. Sherlock glanced at John halfway through, and John quickly averted his eyes to look back at the plants on his page. Sherlock chuckled to himself, and said,

 

“You would normally be able to read that page 5 times in the amount of time you’ve spent on it, you know.”

 

John rolled his eyes and turned the page in spite, beginning to read the first paragraph but soon Sherlock creating his potion stole his attention again. Sherlock looked over again and tilted his head, as if to say, “Really?” John just shrugged and said,

 

“Well, you’re the best person in our Potions class so sorry if I don’t find it cool the way you work.”

 

“No, no… It’s fine.” Sherlock blinked once and went back to work. A while after John left, coming back half an hour later with books from the library. Sherlock was babbling away when he appeared in the Hall again, and John remarked,

 

“Do you just carry on talking when I’m not here? Did you even notice I was gone when you started talking?”

 

Sherlock’s head snapped back around in surprise, his eyes widening a bit and his cheeks reddening slightly. “I… I didn’t realize you were gone.”

 

John just shook his head and opened up another Herbology textbook, murmuring to himself as he read. That evening at supper all the remaining students ate together at a small part of one of the tables, Dumbledore even coming down to join them. The students temporarily forgot that they belonged to different Houses and bonded together, telling stories of magical pranks they pulled on their siblings. That night John was the only one in his room, and he decided to jump on Anderson’s bed (Anderson and Sally have been staying well away from their group for some time except for one incident where Anderson tripped Sherlock in a crowded hallway). He went to bed much later than he normally would, and he felt a burst of pride at his independence as his thoughts drifted off to sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Later on in that week on a particularly sunny day, John and Sherlock agreed they had studied enough and decided to go outside. They sat on one of the ledges of the main courtyard back to back, leaning against each other for support. They sat in silence, listening to the first calls of birds of the year and letting the sun warm their cheeks. John shivered a little, and Sherlock sat up straighter, took his scarf and wrapped it around both their necks.

 

“Well, that’s affectionate of you. Where has my best friend Sherlock gone?” John said, teasing, while turning his head a little to the side to be better heard.

 

“Best friend, am I?” Sherlock asked, completely ignoring John’s question.

 

“Yes, best friend. You’ve been my best friend since first year, if you really couldn’t tell. Are you that oblivious to social cues and relationships? Wait, don’t answer that, you’re dating Irene-bloody-Adler, A.K.A. the most beautiful girl of our year. Therefore, obviously you must be doing something right.”

 

Silence stretched on after that, Sherlock contemplating what John had just said. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. He turned his head towards John’s and opened his mouth once more,

 

“Mycroft doesn’t approve of Irene. Anyways, she’s transferring at the end of the year so I really won’t be seeing her again.”

 

“Why is she transferring?”

 

“Her parents are moving to France, so she’s going to go to Beauxbatons instead.”

 

“Ah. You gonna miss her?” John asked cautiously.

 

“Yes, more than I thought I could… I would. I will.”

 

Sherlock’s voice caught on the last word he spoke, and John thought back to Lestrade’s words from the beginning of the year, and his chest tightened in compassion. He reached back and patted Sherlock’s hand. They continued to sit in silence for some time until the sun began to set, Sherlock’s scarf still wrapped up around John’s neck, when which they went back inside to go prepare for supper. The next morning they went back to studying in the Grand Hall, although during the afternoon John fell asleep on the table as Sherlock read quietly. He only woke up when Sherlock started to speak to him without noticing the fact that his friend was currently unconscious on the table.

 

“Mm’sleep, Sh’lock. Why are you talking to me?” John said into the crook of his elbow.

 

“I was just remarking on the fact that there seems to be a candle very close to your hair and that it’s about to catch on fire.”

 

“Bloody hell!” John snapped up immediately, and then stared at the spot where his head was.

 

“There’s no fucking candle, Sherlock, what are you on about?”

 

Sherlock smirked, and John hit him across the back the head, earning him an, “Ow!” and, “What did you do that for?”. They went back to reading their respective texts after that.

The end of March break came and went, and the two boys went about their lives. That year, to everyone's surprise, Hufflepuff took the Quidditch House Cup for the first time in 9 years, thanks to John. As the winter morphed into spring and then into summer, John and Mary's relationship deepened. At the end of the year, Moriarty made another significant appearance in John's life, trapping him in the same tree as the year before. It quickly became a distant memory as it came the time to go back home to the muggle world.  
On the train, John held Mary in his arms while Sherlock held Irene in his in a much similar way. Lestrade and Molly kept up a constant chatter, and John and Mary spoke up often, cracking jokes and reliving the year's memories. Sherlock and Irene, however, stayed silent.  
They finally arrived at the station once more, and the group of friends waved their goodbyes while John kissed Mary his farewell. He held her face in his hands and smiled, rubbing his thumb back in forth in a way he knew she would find comforting. They stepped away, and John watched as Molly, Lestrade and Mary walked off together. He stayed behind, averting his eyes while Sherlock and Irene made their last bow as a couple. Irene held onto Sherlock for what seemed like forever, and they silently split apart. She walked away, glancing back at Sherlock before making her way outside. John heard Sherlock take in a gulp of air, barely holding his composure.  
He was to spend the first couple days of summer with John, so they strode together to Mrs. Watson's car. John had sent a letter in advance telling his family of how Sherlock might be once he appeared, and John thanked his mum silently when she didn't utter a word. That night, as John and Sherlock stood in his room before going to bed, Sherlock pulled him into one of his now-rare hugs, holding John for a few tight seconds then letting ago again. John didn't know how to comfort him, and so he gave Sherlock space after that. That first night John heard sniffling, and he turned his back to his best friend. When it came to Sherlock, the boy who never seemed to show compassion or affection or even the time of day to anyone except those very close to him, showed his human side that night. John wished fervently that if Sherlock ever showed his human side in such a huge way, then it not be for the same reason again.


	7. Chapter 7

John wrote to Mary often that summer, more often than he probably should have. Whenever Sherlock was around he would keep from writing so many, as he was still heartbroken over Irene. If anyone else saw Sherlock they would've never guessed that he was heartbroken, but John saw through that. His eyes would become unfocused, which was incredibly unsettling, since his eyes were always piercing with the high intelligence behind them. He tried to cheer up Sherlock, but he didn't really know what to do. Only towards the end of the long, lonely summer did Sherlock's eyes stop becoming unfocused and distracted.   
"Okay, Sherlock, what are you doing?"  
"Making Fernander's Potion."  
"Why now?"  
"Why not now?"  
"It's 3:27 in the bloody morning, is that reason enough?  
"Time is irrelevant, John."  
John threw up his arms in exasperation, and flipped around in his bed to face the wall. He took the spare pillow from the ground and buried his head under it, and promptly went back to sleep.

 

The next morning there was no evidence whatsoever of any potion making. John looked around at his floor, now empty of potion ingredients. Sherlock lay curled up in a ball, once again underneath a thin sheet, snoring lightly. John rolled his eyes, and pulled off his covers to go downstairs. He walked into the kitchen while rubbing his eye, and froze when he saw the table. Mrs. Watson walked in from the living room on the other side of the kitchen, saw John and smiled.

 

“Happy birthday, John. I didn’t think you would be up for a while yet, so I set out your presents on the table.”

 

A muffled call of, “John?” from upstairs had them both looking up at the ceiling. John grinned at his mum and ran upstairs, taking them two at a time.

 

“Yes, Sherlock?”

 

“Oh. Hello.” Sherlock sat with his sheet twisted around him with no shirt on, and it made him look as if he was naked underneath. John gave him a questioning look, and when he didn’t get an explanation he turned to his dresser and pulled out some clothes.

 

“I’m going to go get dressed, alright?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Came a subdued answer as Sherlock’s head fell backwards and squished itself in the pillow.

 

Around 10 minutes later, John and Sherlock made their way downstairs together, Sherlock still in pyjamas, his dark brown hair tussled. John walked back into the kitchen and sat down, paused and looked up at Sherlock in the doorway. Sherlock stared at the small pile of wrapped presents on the table, seemingly confused.

 

“Who’s birthday is it, John?”

 

John cleared his throat and answered, “Mine, actually.”

 

Sherlock nodded, and took his place on his side of the table. He had been over at John’s house so often that summer that the side closest to the wall of the yellow-tiled kitchen became his side. They ate breakfast (eggs benedict, John’s favourite) and the day went by in a blur. Harry, now 19 years old, took the two boys to the zoo and then to the movies. John and Sherlock laughed all the way home, commenting endlessly on the inaccuracy of the portrayal of magic in the movie they saw. That night they didn’t go to bed until very late, retelling stories of old experiences from their first years at Hogwarts. Mrs. Watson found the two the next morning with Sherlock’s mattress pushed against John’s bed, leaning on it with their heads lolled back, in a relaxed state in which only very good friends could ever achieve.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Three weeks later, the two boys were back on the Hogwarts Express with Lestrade and Molly. Mary was out in another compartment visiting some of her friends, so the original four sat together in companionship, although Molly and Lestrade, both having been made Prefects, went out to patrol the hallways of the train a little while later. Half way through the train ride Mary came in, and John opened his arms for her. He glanced at Sherlock and caught a moment of pain cross his features, buried right away under a blank face. Lestrade and Molly, back from patrolling, came through the door a few moments later, and right as the door closed came a knock on their door.

 

“Hello, muggle lovers! May we come in? Oh, never mind about answering that.” Came an unfortunately familiar singsong voice, growing louder as its owner opened the door. Lestrade rolled his eyes and Molly quickly pulled out a book, hiding her face behind it.

 

“Moriarty, what are you doing?” John asked angrily.

 

“Oh, nothing. Just came to say hello to the genius here. Sherlock, really, I just can’t believe you hang around these people. They are under your standards.”

 

Sherlock only glared at Moriarty. “Well, if you must know, I have that ingredient you needed for that particular potion of yours, if you want it. Just give me a call, why won’t you?” Moriarty turned around to look at John, and added,

 

“Then again, they are fascinating. Ordinary people, so boring and yet go about their little lives. I should get a live-in one, or maybe one who can accompany me where ever I go.”

 

Without another word, Moriarty strode out and slammed the door. Lestrade flipped off the door.

 

“He gives me a bad vibe, that guy. I don’t know what’s up in his head, but he seems downright insane sometimes.” Lestrade fumed, crossing his arms.

 

“Ignore him, he can’t do much to us unless if he provokes us.” Sherlock added quietly, watching the scenery outside.

 

Molly, from behind her book, gave Sherlock an utterly disbelieving look. John turned his head to watch the trees go by, as Mary and Molly began to talk about some Wizarding music bands they’ve heard of. John slowly felt himself drifting off into a doze, and the next thing he was aware of was Sherlock tapping his shoulder, telling him they had arrived. John looked outside to the darkness of the evening, grabbed Mary’s hand in his and turned to walk out. They strode to the carriages, and rode all the way up to their home away from home, towering high above them like a guardian angel.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

John was starting to wonder if the teachers purposefully put Sherlock and John together in the same Potions class as he walked in and his friend was there. John set down his books next to him, ignoring the pointed looks from the other Slytherins in the room. Sherlock was scribbling madly into a small book, and only looked up to notice John when Professor Snape called for attention. Just like that, the year began. The Professors right away began to pound into their heads that O.W.L.s were that year, and they all assigned more homework than they used to. John went through it all the first night, surprised at how quickly he could complete it. John tried out for the Quidditch team again, figuring that it hadn’t really affected his marks the year before. The first few months of the year went by, and Christmas time came around with fluttery snowfalls. The hallways were decorated with hanging garlands of spruce and pine, and little glittering lights floated above everyone’s heads. The Great Hall became home to a huge white pine, which John saw Hagrid pulling in from the Forbidden Forest. The ghosts sang carols and the halls rang with cheery voices. John loved Hogwarts even more, if it were possible, when the holidays came around.

 

John sat in the common room with Molly during a stormy afternoon, reading one of his adventure books from home. People walked around and studied, keeping the sound volume low. No one gave a second glance at what John was reading, as is the norm with Hufflepuffs. If he read his book anywhere else, he would be hounded by Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and for that he was thankful that Hufflepuffs were so accepting.

 

He looked up awhile later, snapped out of his story by a person coming to sit next to him on the sofa. He glanced over and went back to reading, then glanced back up and asked,

 

“Sherlock?”

 

“Mmh.”

 

“What are you doing in the Hufflepuff common room? I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to let anyone else know that you know how to get in.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John and stayed where he was. John sighed and went back to reading.

 

“Sherlock? I know this is probably gonna seem stupid to you, but because I’m a Prefect I need to tell you to leave. You know the rules, come on.” Molly told him, taking his arm and pulling. Sherlock got up with a huff and gazed down at her, and immediately her cheeks blew up with red.

 

“Fine, I’ll leave.” He replied pointedly, and turned and left the room, leaving a group of confused first years in his wake. Molly sighed and shook her head, and turned to John.

 

“How does he know how to get in?”

 

“He deduced how in first year. I really have no idea how, though.”

 

She gave him a disbelieving look, and replied, “You’re very close, the two of you. Although, then again, I don’t doubt his deducing abilities. I just don’t know how he could’ve found his way in.” She shrugged and went back to making notes on a section in her Arithmancy book. That evening she gave a discouraging glance at Sherlock after supper, and he looked at her and shrugged dramatically. Molly, John and Lestrade burst out laughing, and Sherlock stared at them in confusion. John looked away for a moment, and saw Mary walking away from them. He raised his hand and went to call out to her when he saw that a 6th year Gryffindor standing beside her, making her giggle with an unheard sentence. John put down his arm, and turned back to the group. Molly and Lestrade were leaning on the wall, still laughing, but Sherlock was watching John, his features softened in what seemed like sympathy.

 

That evening, when it came time to go back to their common rooms, Lestrade went off to the Gryffindor Tower while Sherlock followed Molly and John to the Hufflepuff one. She patted Sherlock on his shoulder, uttered the password, and went inside. John stayed out, facing Sherlock.

 

“Don’t say anything, Sherlock. I know you saw, between Mary and I… but I don’t think you could know how to comfort me.”

 

“This has been happening for awhile, hasn’t it?” He answered.

 

“Yeah, maybe since October. Nothing’s definite yet but we haven’t been together very often.”

 

Sherlock nodded, and added, “No, I don’t know how to comfort you. The only examples I’ve had of comforting are from you, and there hasn’t really been much opportunity to need comforting. Except, you know… My mum. And Irene.”

 

They stood there silently, and John turned a little and pointed to the door, to tell Sherlock he was leaving. His friend nodded, then pulled John into a hug.

 

“Oh, oh… Okay. That, this, is very unexpected.” John said into Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock backed away after a few minutes and whispered,

 

“Well, I did say what the only examples were and it seemed a hug was a logical course of action.”

 

John giggled, waved, and walked into the common room. He looked back as the door closed, and saw Sherlock still standing there, watching him sadly. John shook his head. Sadly? He thought as he walked up the stairs to his room. He surely must’ve been mistaken. Sherlock barely shows emotion except for amusement and annoyance. John decided that he had imagined it all, and went to bed with low spirits. He still wanted to be with Mary, and he hated to see when she wanted to be with someone else.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was nearing the end of spring when Molly came running up to John and Lestrade.

 

“The O.W.L.s! The O.W.L.s are in a month! This is so stressing, how… Oh, dear, how am I going to pass Potions? Or Charms? Or Astronomy?” She cried to them.

 

“Hey, I’ll help, if you want. I need to study for Astronomy and Charms but I doubt I’ll need Astronomy to be a healer or a mediwizard, I haven’t decided yet.” John offered, grabbing her shoulders gently to stop her shaking.

 

“Aye, and I won’t need it either to become a Magical Law enforcer. What do you want to be, Molly?” Lestrade asked her.

 

“I don’t know yet… I would love to work at St. Mungo’s Hospital, but I’m not smart enough to be a healer. Maybe a nurse.” She replied.

 

“Well, to be a healer you need a N.E.W.T. in Potions, Charms, Herbology and Transfiguration, so maybe go that route. Forget about Astronomy, just try and get a passing grade and you’ll be fine.”

 

            Molly didn’t look convinced. Later on that afternoon, Sherlock, Molly and John sat in the library, studying hard for Charms. Molly paused in her work and looked up at Sherlock.

 

            “What do you want to be, Sherlock? When you leave Hogwarts, I mean.”

 

            “Easy, Auror. It seems like the best career for me, and I believe it will keep me relatively not bored.”

 

            John snorted at the last bit and answered, “You and being bored. I really do wonder for your sanity sometimes.”

 

            Sherlock rolled his eyes, and got up to get another book on Transfiguration. During the next month, the four friends worked and studied and reviewed endlessly, bogged down by stress and need to succeed in their required subjects. When it came time to start their O.W.L.s, John’s head felt like it would burst.

 

A list was posted the night before, showing the schedule for the exam days. It started on a Monday, with Herbology first, then Potions, Charms, Arithmancy, Transfiguration. John and Sherlock sighed in relief when they saw that they had a day off in the middle of it all, but Lestrade and Molly still had to do one. The next week started with Ancient Runes, then Astronomy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination. The following week only had History of Magic and Muggle Studies. The next morning the hallways were dreadfully silent as students went to write what felt like their impending death. John stepped into the Great Hall for his first O.W.L. exam, with Molly standing beside him. He glanced at her and she rolled her shoulders back, and they walked to their table. The time was called to begin, and they were off.

 

That first weekend in the middle of exams, John finally called up the courage to speak to Mary. She sat with a couple other Hufflepuffs in the common room around the fireplace, and he strode up to her, took her arm without explanation and pulled her aside.

 

“John, what are you doing?” She asked, glancing back and mouthing sorry to her friends.

 

“Look, I don’t feel like we should be together anymore. You and I never have the time to be together, and anyway, you don’t seem very fond of me. At least, not as fond as I am of you.” John began, “Anyways, I know I should probably fight for our relationship but you don’t seem too keen to try.”

 

She stared at him in surprise, her mouth wide open in shock. It took her a few seconds to reply, “I’m sorry, John, it’s just… I know. I feel it too. I don’t know. I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Good. I’m under so much stress right now and this was bothering me something terrible. I’m sorry, that sounded harsh… I still want to be friends, I just don’t think it’s good for us to be so… attached.”

 

“Alright, it’s okay.” She replied while nodding. John whirled around and stormed out of the common room, and to his surprise Sherlock was outside waiting for him. John kept on walking, and Sherlock easily fell into step with him.

 

“What are you doing here, Sherlock?” He said exasperatedly.

 

“I knew what you were planning on doing and I felt that I needed to be there for you, just like you were there for me and Irene. It’s about time you ended it, anyway.”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” John grabbed Sherlock’s shoulder and pulled him to a stop. Sherlock’s piercing eyes bore into John.

 

“She was hurting you, John. Being hurt doesn’t suit you, you must know that. You’re the most caring out of all of us, obviously, meaning that you can be hurt much more easily. She took advantage of that.”

John, for once, did not appreciate being deduced. His hands clenched open and closed in an effort to stay calm. He shook his head once and jogged off, coming back to his sense later on and finding himself outside, close to the Forbidden Forest. He was alone, and the immensity of the dark tree line intimidated him. He pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes, and his emotion overtook him. He sat down behind a tree, out of sight, and cried. He didn’t emerge until the sun was setting, his eyes having been dry for a long time. He looked up at the castle above him, and spotted a figure at the top of the hill. Sherlock was waiting for him, watching him from a distance, an invisible guardian to John. He sighed, not sure how to face all the emotions coursing through him, and began the long trudge up the hill to face his life once more.


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the O.W.L.s were written with an air of acceptance for John. He felt alone and hollow, as if his heart had been emptied of everything life could offer. He would see Mary from time to time, but he would quickly turn around and go back the way he came. One particular time, while Lestrade was off studying with some Gryffindors and Molly was off asking Professor Briggs about some History points she had missed, John and Sherlock walked along the hallway near the Astronomy tower when Mary came rushing down the steps. John ducked down behind Sherlock, which surprised Sherlock so much that he froze in place. Mary ran past them without noticing the two boys. After having recovered at lightning speed, Sherlock tapped John’s head behind him once she was past. John inched around Sherlock to peer at the hallway, and once he saw it was clear, he stood up straight.

“Sorry, ‘bout that. I don’t exactly want her to see me… Well, something like that.”

“You worry that she’ll notice how affected you are by your break-up if she sees you, therefore sparking the instinct of fleeing whenever you see her.” Sherlock replied matter-of-factly, and began walking once more.

“Yeah, I guess it must be that.” John replied quietly, running his hand over his face.

“It is that, I’m very rarely wrong.” Sherlock called back to the still unmoving John.

Finally, a few days later it came time to leave on the Hogwarts Express to go home. The four friends sat in their usual train compartment, enjoying each other’s company before they would part for 2 months. Sherlock and John entertained Molly and Lestrade with stories of seemingly normal things, but incredibly bizarre for those who were born in the Wizarding world. Finally the light outside was fading, and the train began to blow its whistle to signify it’s nearing the station. Molly sighed, and said,

“I will really miss the three of you. You’re all such wonderful friends, and I hate that we won’t be able to see each other.”

“It’s alright, Molly. We’ll see each other in two months, and two months can go by fast when it’s the summer. Just look at how much fun we’ve had at Hogwarts; time went by so quickly we were barely aware of it. We’ll be going back in no time.” Lestrade answered her, smiling at John and Sherlock. They all stepped off the train and went through the magical brick wall, appearing out of nowhere and surprising a walking couple, who turned and stared like deer caught in headlights. The group played it off as if nothing was wrong, and once the couple had recovered and walked off they burst into laughter, Lestrade and John bent over from the sheer force of it.  They went off in each other’s company, and once right inside of the main entrance they bade their good byes. John and Sherlock stepped out into the warm summer air, and immediately Sherlock’s black car rolled up to the curb. He turned towards John and tilted his head a little to the side as John spoke.

“So, I guess this is good bye for now.” John told Sherlock.

“No, actually. This is a surprise; you’re actually going to my flat for a few days. Mycroft has already arranged it with your parents.” John’s eyes opened wide, and a smile slowly formed on his face.

“Oh, brilliant then!”

John slipped into the car after having put his trunks into the back, as Sherlock made his way to the opposite side. He felt around on the expensive seating, and as the car began to pull away with he began speaking quietly.

“This is the most expensive car I’ve ever been in, and it feels wonderful, Sherlock.”

Sherlock chuckled and replied, “It isn’t much but I can appreciate this car.”

The car made its way through the London streets, and it seemed to take forever before it slowed to a stop in front of three-story building on a quiet street. After the driver had taken out their trunks, Sherlock led John into the building, and a short blond-haired woman in a purple skirt greeted them.

“Sherlock! Welcome home, dear, and hello John! My, both of you have grown since the last time I saw you!” She cried, taking Naya’s cage and bringing it up a set of stairs. “Mycroft is going to be gone for a few days, so I’ll make you some tea and biscuits. Only just this once, you two. You’re growing up now and I’m not supposed to be your housekeeper, and you need to learn how to fend for yourselves.”

John grinned up at the old woman’s voice, already comfortable in the flat. They took their things upstairs and put them away for the time being. Sherlock went off to get changed out of his wizarding uniform, and John sat down in the flat’s kitchen. It was a bit small but cozy, John decided. The living room had a royal flowering wallpaper on it, with a comical yellow smiley face on the far side riddled with holes. There was a desk jutting out into the middle, with a couch on the right side of the room and two armchairs on the left next to a fireplace. A skull sat grinning morbidly on the mantle, and a large mirror hung above it. A red carpet covered the floor, and the whole room was cluttered with various artifacts and books. The kitchen had green walls and a table in the middle, which was also cluttered with papers. A hallway split off next to the fridge, leading down to Sherlock’s bedroom and another door that John guessed would be the bathroom.

Mrs. Hudson set down a cup filled with steaming hot brown liquid on a saucer in front of John, and he thanked her quietly as she left to go get some biscuits from her flat. John cautiously sipped the tea so as to not get burned, and he looked up when a small creaking noise came from the little hallway.

Sherlock stood there, holding a letter in his hands. John couldn’t help but notice that he was holding himself a bit stiffly, but as he kept on watching Sherlock relaxed. John continued watching his friend, who was now dressed in dark jeans and a tight purple button-up shirt and not wearing any socks. Without even bring aware of it, John noticed the muscles beneath the thin fabric, and he immediately stopped his unusual thoughts from going even further, his cheeks warming and turned his attention to the teacup in front of him. Sherlock walked to the other side of the table and sat down, reading the paper that was contained within the envelope. He suddenly threw it behind his head onto the ground and began to sip at his tea. _His eyes are fully green in this light_ , John realized, and once again he caught himself thinking in a way he didn’t used to. Sherlock seemed oblivious to what was going on within John’s head, and he was thankful for the moment of privacy he had from his friend’s piercing gaze.

“So, welcome to my flat. It’s empty of people most of the time, what with Mycroft working so much. I do believe he’s becoming the British government now, and since I’m gone for such long periods of time because of school this place doesn’t get used much.”

“It’s nice,” John adds, nodding to himself, “It’s really charming, its got character. I thought you would’ve lived in something more… Modern, I guess.”

“Valid assumption. No, when my mum was put in the hospital indefinitely we moved into a smaller flat, this one. I was almost 10 years old at the time, and I’ve lived here ever since.”

Mrs. Hudson came back in at that moment with biscuits and sat down with them both, asking about the school year. The two boys kept her up for a good while, telling her story after story of their adventures of the year. When she went to bed, they stayed up later, playing magical chess. That night they slept in Sherlock’s queen sized bed, with John’s head near Sherlock’s feet. Before he fell asleep, he paid attention to what he had felt earlier when he had seen Sherlock in the little hallway, but before he could really delve deep into the thoughts he succumbed to sleep. John felt quite at home at 221B Baker Street, much to his surprise.

That summer went by in a blur once again. John’s family went down to the coast of France for a few days, with Sherlock in tow. Clara, still Harry’s girlfriend, accompanied them, and together they splashed in the ocean waves and ate ice cream on the boardwalk. Once they went home, Sherlock back to Baker Street, John noticed a letter from Hogwarts in the pile of mail left from their time away. John rushed to open it and realized it was his O.W.L. results.

“Mum! Dad! It’s my exam results!” He yelled, running up the stairs to their bedroom. “I got my results!”

John opened the letter and with his parents behind him, they read the results. He was ecstatic to see that he had gotten an Exceeds Expectations in Charms, Transfiguration and Herbology, but he was especially surprised to see he had gotten Outstanding in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. In Astronomy and Ancient Runes, he got Acceptable (“At least I passed, I guess.” He remarked) but in History of Magic he got Poor. He didn’t mind about the ones he had gotten below Exceeds Expectations because he didn’t need those classes, but he couldn’t believe he had done as well as he did.

“I’ll be able to continue in those classes, then. If I can get N.E.W.T.s in those then I can become a healer, or a mediwizard! You wouldn’t mind if I take up a job in the Wizarding world, would you?” He asked them, suddenly worried that he would be making an unfavourable choice.

“Son, you can do whatever you want, as long as you’re happy and can provide for yourself.” Mr. Watson answered, beaming at him. “I am extremely proud of you, John. I don’t know much more than what you’ve told me, but if a healer is anything like a doctor then I’m happy.”

That night, John wrote to Sherlock his results and asked if he could know his, although he already had an idea of what they would be. Sherlock answered back, having gotten Outstanding in every single one of his classes except History of Magic, in which he had gotten Troll.

_How did you even FAIL a class, Sherlock? I would’ve thought you would get higher than a Poor at least, and yet you got the lowest grade possible!_

Sherlock’s reply came the next morning, which read: _John, that class was so dreadfully boring. I caused so much trouble that Professor Briggs had given me so many detentions. Of course, they were never recorded so I never went to them. Any information I absorbed I deleted from my memory._

John put his face in his hand and laughed hard, falling on the ground from his chair and causing Mrs. Watson to call up if he was okay. The results of the O.W.L.s reignited his excitement to go back to Hogwarts, and for the rest of the summer he waited impatiently to go back and learn even more of what the Wizarding world could offer.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The last week before school, John was woken up in the dead of night by a stone hitting his window. He automatically looked to his door to see if Harry had heard, but he then remembered she had moved into a flat with Clara. Rubbing his eyes, he rose out of his bed, as quiet as a hunting owl, and tiptoed to his window. A full moon was rising in the swirling dark blues of the sky, and it illuminated a figure on the sidewalk outside. Through groggy thoughts it finally registered who it was: Sherlock.  
"Sherlock? What are you doing here?" John asked incredulously through the screen in his window, pushing his face against it to try and see closer.  
"John... It's Mycroft. We had a row and I ran out and called a cab, and the only address I could think of was yours." Sherlock replied. John heard a tremor in his voice, and he made a split second decision to wake his parents.  
An hour later, Sherlock lay in the mattress on John's floor, with a borrowed pair of pyjamas and a promise from Mr. Watson that he could stay as long as he needed to. John could see that he was lying on his back, his eyes boring into the ceiling above him, as if taunting it to fall on his head.  
"What was the row about?" John inquired softly, scared that it may cross some kind of personal boundary Sherlock could still have towards him after all these years. Sherlock tilted his head back so that he could take in John’s face upside-down.  
"John, you should know that you are the person I trust the most. If there was anything I was uncomfortable in telling you, I would say so and it'll end there. Therefore, stop being so scared to ask questions all the time." A moment of silence prevailed, and Sherlock continued, "Mycroft believes that I shouldn't find a job in the Wizarding world. He says that since I was born in a non-magical society then I should stay there. I disagreed, words were exchanged, we both yelled, and a fistfight began. I ran off when I could escape Mycroft's grasp. You have to understand however that Mycroft never gets violent. Ever since Mummy died... Sorry, ever since she died he has been more distant than ever and more impatient with me." Sherlock paused, catching his breath. " I guess tonight something snapped. I doubt it'll ever happen again, but it's unwise that I stay at 221B for a little bit."  
John waited for Sherlock to continue, but it seemed as if he wasn't going to. John grunted and nodded and replied, "And as you already know, there's no problem with you staying here."  
Sherlock reached over to John's bed and grabbed John's hand, squeezed it once in understanding and let go. John felt a small warmth in the pit of his stomach, and the two boys slept, all-be-it uneasily, until the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The train whistle blew its familiar sound, igniting anticipation in John's heart. Sherlock and him walked beside the train until they found their normal wagon and stepped on. They shooed away a couple third years and sat down in their usual compartment, smiling slightly in excitement.  
"It feels good to be back, I swear." John remarked, sighing and lying back on the seat.  
"You can say that again!" said Lestrade, who had just appeared at the door. A few cries of "Heeey!" rose up from John and Lestrade and Molly, who stood behind them. They greeted their old friends and sat down, beginning to recount that summer's events. Sherlock kept his row with Mycroft out of the conversation and John followed his lead, respecting the fact that if he wanted them to know he would tell them himself. The greenery outside flew past, hills and valleys and lakes of all kinds, which were now familiar to John.  
"I reckon it'll be an easier year, considering I'm dropping 3 of my classes." John said at some point.  
"True, although I'm keeping muggle studies, even if I don't need it. I know you both could teach me more than that class ever could but I'd love to go out someday in the muggle world and act as one of them. Just to see how it is." Molly added.  
"I'm dropping Arithmancy and History of Magic. God I’m glad to be rid of those. Briggs is horrible at teaching, no matter how passionate he can get." Lestrade supplied, pumping a fist into the air in victory. "Although I’m also keeping an extra class. I love Care of Magical Creatures, although almost no one else I know does."  
Sherlock added a little while later, "I can only drop History of Magic, since I didn't take any electives. Also considering the fact I got Troll in it, I would have been dropping it in any case."  
John guffawed when he saw Molly and Lestrade's faces.   
"You, of all the people in this school, failed? You FAILED a class?" Lestrade yelled in shock.  
The rest of the train ride was spent with Sherlock telling tales of all his pranks he made during the 5 years he had to take the class. By the time they arrived at Hogwarts the group was red in the face. They took the carriage up to Hogwarts, and spent a lovely welcome-back feast happily, although they had to be at their respective tables. John and Molly welcomed the first years, and once Molly told John what the new password for the year was, he walked off to Sherlock. He was waiting for John in the doorway, and together they caught up with their classmates as Molly and Lestrade went for their Prefect duties.  
Before they had to go to their common rooms for curfew, John and Sherlock were intercepted by Moriarty in the hall.  
"I gave you an offer last year, I thought you might call for me, Sherlock."  
"I'm not interested in what you offer, Moriarty." Sherlock replied, attempting to get around him but being blocked by Rachel. Rachel grinned evilly at John, who glowered at her.  
"Well, if you're not interested in ingredients, perhaps I can make a better offer," Moriarty stepped up to Sherlock and whispered a few words in Sherlock's ear. John saw Sherlock tense and back away a fraction, and irrational jealousy rose up in his gut. Sherlock bared his teeth in a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and reply something just as quietly. Moriarty laughed and whirled around and sauntered off with Rachel in tow.  
"Consider my offer, Sherlock." He called back in his sickening singsong voice, and the two boys glared at the back that was distancing itself from them.  
"What did he say to you?" John asked, his voice a tad lower than it usually is.  
Sherlock glanced at him curiously, and answered, "I don't exactly want to say, at the moment... If it's alright with you."  
John nodded, a bit hurt but understanding of Sherlock's reluctance. They walked to the Hufflepuff common room first, which was closer, and they bade each other good night. As John climbed the steps to his room, he began to wonder about the feelings he seemed to be getting of late towards Sherlock. _Am I going mad?_ He thought as he changed for bed. _I've never liked men, although sexuality is fluid and I guess it might've just needed the right person... Oh what am I thinking, I do not have a crush on my best friend!_ He thought finally as he drifted off to sleep. _Or do I?_ Was his last thought, and it was the same thought that came into his mind the next morning, unbidden.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day John's classes began. He only had a double block of class in the morning every day, one for the 5 subjects he would be taking. John was relieved to have a lower load of classes, but the amount of work that came from them was equal to the year before. The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were put into the same class once again, and John didn't hesitate to take the empty seat next to Sherlock. Molly took the seat behind them with a Hufflepuff named Victoria.   
"Turn to page 394 of your textbook..." Professor Snape began, and the school year was officially under way.

~~~~~~~~~~~

John was once again the Seeker for the Quidditch team. John, being one of the most senior members of the team, oversaw the tryouts for the Hufflepuffs. Halfway through them all, after showing a third year how to properly hold their broom, John noticed Sherlock up in the stands with a textbook in hand. His stomach did a little flip, and he shook his head clear before mounting his broom and flying up to his best friend.  
"Hello, Sherlock. What brings you here?" He called to him before being properly in front of him. Sherlock raised his eyes to appraise John.  
"Moriarty has been hounding me, and I can't get away from easily considering I share a room with him. This is one of the few places I’m able to be without him knowing." He answered without lifting his eyes from the pages. "And anyway, I wanted to come watch you a bit. I find your way of flying and commanding your team quite unorthodox but efficient."  
John blushed and looked down at the Hufflepuffs milling around below.   
"Well, I'll take that as a compliment then. Enjoy your reading." He said, turning his broom to fly away, but he hesitated when Sherlock replied,  
"I meant it as one, John."  
John didn't dare turn around, and sped away, pretending he hadn't heard. The air towards the ground helped to clear his head and return to the task at hand: to make the best possible Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The days turned into weeks, which in turn turned into months. Moriarty rarely left their group of friends alone, especially Sherlock. He hadn't revealed to John what he had said that first night, and John's curiosity felt like it would be the death of him but he held his tongue. When the holidays came around, John felt a little bit relieved when he learned that Moriarty wouldn't be there for the last week of classes. That week was spent enjoying their first times of peace from him, and also a long needed time of silence to study. The library became John and Sherlock's haven, and they spent many hours completing homework and studying for upcoming quizzes. The last evening before it came time to leave for home, the Houses were allowed, as it is every year, to mingle during their Christmas dinner. The group of friends dined together, laughing and conversing about everyday things. John would glance over at Sherlock from time to time, and for the first time in a long while he could see a spark of happiness in his friend's swirling blue eyes. It warmed John's heart, and he later commented about it to Molly before going up the stairs.  
"I noticed it too. It's nice to see Sherlock happy, he's one of those few people who deserve it more than anyone else." She replied quietly, mindful of the sleeping students in the floors above. John fell asleep effortlessly that night, tranquil in mind and body. Sherlock, more than anyone else, he decided, deserved the rare moments of true happiness he could get.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will be coming out a bit more slowly now, as I'm pretty busy over the next few days. I'm probably pushing the rating on this a tiny little bit with a certain part of the chapter, but nothing smutty happens. Does something happen, though? You need to read to find out.

The Christmas holidays began without any trouble, except for the car having trouble starting due to unusually low temperatures. He went with his family to his Grandmother's house and spent a week there, eating and chatting and playing cards. During that week, Harry and Clara announced that they were getting married, and that became a cause for even more celebration. John thought about Sherlock often, and he wondered if his friend's holidays were going okay. After a bit of deliberation, he sent a letter after calling for Naya into the night, and it took a couple days for him to get a reply.  
 _I'm fine, Mycroft is being just as intolerably manipulative as before but everything is going well for now. There's no cause for worry,_ said his reply, which John felt was tinged with annoyance. He pulled out another piece of paper and hastily replied, _Well, considering throughout all the years I’ve known you, anything can happen when you have to spend the holidays. I'm sorry if I annoyed you._ He regretted it slightly for adding the last bit, but he sent it off with another letter saying _don't reply until the 28th_ , and he put it out of his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later, after going back to Hogwarts, Molly and John were taking a walk outside on a path that went around the grounds of the school. John watched, entertained, as he saw enchanted shovels clearing the newly fallen snow. Further down the path, a group of Gryffindors were walking towards them, and as they passed John waved to the only one he recognized, the Gryffindor named Cassandra that he had spoken to all those years before. A light snowfall filled the air around them, and Molly shook the snow off of John's blond head, which John protested teasingly. John felt that he had a sort of bond with Molly: they could spend a long time together in silence and it would never become awkward. He appreciated their companionship, and it was one only Molly and him shared.  
"John... I've noticed something and I understand if you don't feel comfortable talking about it now." Molly began hesitantly. "Okay, how will I go about this..."  
"Just ask me, Molly. What's bothering you?" He replied, touching her arm briefly in encouragement.  
"Alright... How much do you care about Sherlock? As in, in what way do you, oh... Do you fancy Sherlock?" She said quickly, hiding her face behind her Hufflepuff yellow scarf.  
John stopped in his tracks, his mind going blank in panic. He stared at Molly with his mouth hanging wide open, in complete shock that someone had noticed what occupied more and more of his thoughts.  
"How... What? What makes you think that?"   
"Oh, never mind. You always look at him with this look of adoration and affection; to me it's clear as day. Don't worry, he doesn't know." She answered, turned towards him  
"Well... Oh, fucking hell, Molly. Does anyone else know?"  
"Victoria noticed, and Lestrade was wondering about it a bit but he wasn't sure. I'm a bit worried about it, though. Moriarty has been making passes at Sherlock since the beginning of the year, according to Savannah. You know her; she's a Slytherin fifth year. She's nice, although..."  
"Bloody hell, it seems as if everyone knows! And Moriarty? That's what he's been doing to Sherlock this whole time?" He said, his voice an octave higher as he threw his hands up into the air in frustration. She nodded, and he covered his face in his hands, his cheeks feeling as if they were on fire from how much he was blushing. After a minute, he looked through his mittens at Molly, who patiently stood with her arms crossed.   
"Molly... What do I do?"   
Molly tutted quietly and took John's wrists and pulled, prying them away from his face. John's mouth was opened slightly, his blood still rushing furiously at the realization that he wasn't as good at hiding his feelings as he thought.  
"John, you're my friend. I know you. Do what you do best: follow your heart. I understand that Sherlock is, well, a difficult man. If anything happens, I will be here." She answered, smiling. John grinned in spite of himself and said,  
"God, what would I do without you?"  
They resumed walking, but from behind them they heard footsteps of a person running, approaching fast. They turned just in time to see Moriarty raise his wand and yell out a spell. John suddenly rose up into the air and was flung around like a doll. He faintly registered Molly screaming at Moriarty, and suddenly the invisible hold disappeared and he plunged into the snow bank.  
"John Watson. Your feelings betray you." He yelled at him, his eyes flashing. "He is mine! Friendly reminder: back off. I will burn you if you don't, and it'll be the biggest regret you will ever have." Moriarty gave a small flick of his wand and John felt a small burning sensation on his wrist. He whirled and walked away casually, whistling an old Bee Gees tune, and John watched helplessly as he went up the hill and away from them.  
"John! Are you alright? Are you hurt? We need to tell a Professor! John?" Molly was saying, and he turned his head and looked up at her, the sun making his eyes squint.  
"Molly, no, don't. I'm fine, I really am. We don't need to tell a Professor, please, calm down!" He replied, panicking and looking around for witnesses and seeing none. "Molly, please! It would only get worse if we did anything!"  
She grabbed his arm and helped him up, brushing snow off of John while simultaneously checking for any abnormalities. He hugged Molly to soothe her fears, and then they trudged back up to the school, having had enough of the outside for the time being. John went and changed into drier clothes, his thoughts troubled. Molly waited with her books at the bottom of the stairs, and together they went to the library. John tried to study, but he was too distracted by what had happened with Moriarty and was constantly rubbing his wrist. Lestrade and Sherlock found their friends later on, sitting in armchairs.   
"Hey, what are you guys studying? I thought you went outside for a walk?" Lestrade asked. John looked at the open book in front of him while Molly answered,  
"We did, but we ran into Moriarty," She glanced at John, "and he kind of scared us off. He threw John into the air with the _levicorpus_ spell, yelled at John and left. We decided we had had enough of snow."  
Sherlock was staring at John, and his eyes hardened when he heard what Moriarty had done. He sat down in the armchair next to John and added,  
"John, what did he yell at you about?"  
"I don't know, I couldn't hear him over the sound of the wind. I'm guessing some first years angered him again and he took it out on me."  
Molly stayed thankfully silently, but John didn't dare look up lest Sherlock realize he was lying. He wished desperately that he could disappear, and through the sound of his pounding heart John heard Sherlock lean back and begin talking about one of his experiments he had conducted over the summer. Before long, the group was laughing at the experiment gone wrong, but John couldn't help but keep looking around for a darkly dressed boy with short black hair. That evening he stayed a little bit away from Sherlock, too spooked to even dare talk to him about the normal things they do. He wished desperately that Sherlock wouldn't notice, and he thanked the heavens when they walked to the common room at bedtime and he stayed silent. That night, John pulled back his sleeve to look at what had burned him. A burn mark stood out from the rest of his skin, a dark red angry welt of raised skin. John understood the message, but right before he fell asleep he decided that there was no way Moriarty could scare him away from Sherlock. Sherlock was John's best friend, and his instinct to be loyal overtook his instinct to flee. Nothing could pull John away from Sherlock, not even Mori-bloody-arty.

~~~~~~~~~~~

In the next few months John would glance nervously around him often whenever he was outside, worried that Moriarty would come and bother him again. Molly would keep an eye out too, although she didn't tell John but he noticed. Sometime in spring, John, Molly and Sherlock walked outside on the grounds, enjoying the newly dry grass. At one point Sherlock just stopped in his tracks, and glared pointedly at them.  
"Alright, you both are nervously glancing around all the time, I’m assuming for the same reason. I'm going to guess you're looking for Moriarty, considering John's voice shakes and you do that thing with your ear when you’re nervous whenever someone mentions him. Both of you kept something from Lestrade and I, although he didn't notice. I decided to politely wait until one of you told me, but out with it. What did he say to you?"  
John began coughing, choking on the panic he felt about Sherlock. Stress because of dangerous things he could deal with, but not when it came to sentiment. It had become harder as he grew up to face and admit to his feelings.   
"Look, we agreed that we wouldn't tell you. It involves John, and I'll only speak of it when he's comfortable in doing so." Molly told Sherlock, her hand patting gently on John's back as he coughed.  
Sherlock threw his hands into the air in frustration and yelled, "Why? What is so scary to admit?"  
"Because he threatened you! And me! He threatened the both of us because I’m too close to you!" John screamed back, twirling to face Sherlock. "I've decided, selfishly, that I prefer your friendship over our safety. Do you understand now? AND I had to learn from him that he has been hounding you for those reasons."  
Sherlock stilled, shocked into silence as he stared at John. His piercing eyes ( _today they're green_ , John thought) bore into John, trying to find some kind of indicator of something. John, ignoring his instinct desperately trying to turn him away and to hide, hide his feelings from Sherlock. They stood, tense and with the air charged around them while Molly stood to the side, fighting an invisible battle. After that infinite minute, Sherlock's shoulders slumped.  
"I - I'm sorry John. I didn't realize it was that complicated. Forgive me."  
John's mouth fell open slightly, and he glanced at Molly to confirm what he had heard. It was the first time Sherlock asked for forgiveness in John's presence.  
"Of course you're forgiven, idiot. You're my best mate, what the hell could I not forgive?"  
Sherlock took a few seconds to react, and then he was flinging himself at John and hugging him tightly. He pulled apart from and him and grinned and replied, "There's more, I know. I don't have enough evidence, but if that's all you can tell me then it's fine."

John felt relief at the fact that Sherlock didn’t seem to have caught on, although he hoped neither Rachel nor Moriarty had seen that particular scene. For the rest of the year, John helped Sherlock get away from Moriarty, although sometimes he would be unsuccessful and at other times it couldn’t be avoided. They kept a silent agreement: John would try and act a bit less close to Sherlock and Sherlock wouldn’t pry into what John was hiding from him. John was content with this, and their lives began to go back to normal, free of fear from Moriarty’s wrath. They studied together, they laughed, and they played magical chess. John could very occasionally beat Sherlock, at which Sherlock would announce the game as “irrelevant”. Molly and John eventually told Lestrade the truth about the whole situation, and he told them that he would support John with whatever happens. By the end of the year, when exams finally came around, John felt confident in his life and his trust in his friends. He felt that no one could ask for better ones, and on the train ride home he thanked them all for it. They shared a group hug, which included a reluctant Sherlock, and John’s heart felt heavy with missing his friends when he walked to his car. The summer had officially begun.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"John?" called out Sherlock into the silent apartment. John was staying for a few days, what with Mycroft being away again. John groaned sleepily and yelled out "what", to which Sherlock didn't answer. John dragged himself reluctantly out of bed and held a sheet around him, suddenly feeling a bit cold. He walked out to where Sherlock sat in his armchair, the sheet bundled up tightly as he rubbed his eyes.  
"What, Sherlock? I was asleep."  
"Sleep is boring, John, wouldn't you rather do something exciting?"  
"No, considering you stayed up playing your violin until 3 in the morning. I'm very tired and I'd like to sleep, thank you."   
John turned around and began striding back to the room when Sherlock called out,  
"I'll have breakfast and tea ready for when you come back, then."  
John paused, puzzled as to why Sherlock would even bother making breakfast for him, but shook his head and went into the cluttered room. He lay back down on his side of the bed with a sigh, and promptly feel back asleep. A few hours later he awoke to the smell of pancakes. John got up, wrapped in his sheet again, and carried his exhausted self to the kitchen and stared sleepily in wonder.  
Sherlock stood dressed in black suit pants and a tight royal purple shirt. His hair was slightly damp, meaning he had taken a shower, and his dark brown curls were more unruly than usual. His eyes were an unusual shade of dark blue, and in the light of the kitchen his cheekbones stood out more prominently. His body moved lithely, and it was clear how much control Sherlock had over his body. He flipped a pancake in the pan on the stove, and John watched, mesmerized. He suddenly felt a warmth down in his groin, and he was very thankful for the sheet that was hiding his reaction.  
"Good morning, once again. Tea just boiled, and the pancakes will be finished in a couple minutes."

“I, uh… Okay.” John answered, his mind sluggish to come up with a better answer. He hoped Sherlock would put it down for grogginess from having just woken up for the second time. John staggered shakily to the kettle and poured out his tea, then carefully made his way to his chair and sat down in a huff. John ran his hand over his face, and began to drink his tea, taking solace in the familiar hot liquid. Sherlock set down a plate filled with pancakes in front of them and they dug in.

A little while later, while playing poker in the living room, the front door downstairs opened and closed. Sherlock’s head snapped up and he listened as a pair of footsteps climbed the stairs.

“Mrs. Hudson?” John asked.

“No. Mycroft.” Sherlock said through clenched teeth. He got up and grabbed his violin and the bow and waited, watching the door like a hawk. John played his turn, and settled his cards down.

“Hello Sherlock, John. I’m not here for long, I just came to see if everything was alright.” Mycroft said calmly as he stepped through the door. “How is he to live with, John? Hellish, I suppose, if you’re not used to his antics.”

“Oh, I’m never bored, that’s for sure.” John replied, running his hand over the other nervously. He nodded and stood up. “Would you like some tea?”

“I’m not staying long enough for that, but how kind of you… It seems Sherlock has chosen the right person to entrust his affection upon.” He replied, turning around while spinning the umbrella he held in his hand.

“What do you mean?” John asked, his curiosity picked.

Sherlock suddenly began to play the violin violently, the sounds crashing together in dissonance. Mycroft and John turned to stare at Sherlock, and Sherlock glared at his brother. When the sounds stopped, Sherlock flicked his hair out of his eyes and pointed at the door.

“I do believe you need to leave, Mycroft, you’re late for your dentist appointment.”

Mycroft raised one eyebrow and replied with a curt, “Good day, John,” and left, closing the door quietly behind him. John only spoke when the front door had opened and closed once again.

“Why did you do that?”

“He was getting annoying.” Sherlock answered, his eyes closed and falling onto the couch. John couldn’t help but stare at the small sliver of skin where his shirt had been pulled up. John shook his head in wonder at the petty feud between the two brothers, and went to pick up a book to read. He didn’t notice when Sherlock looked at him from the corner of his eye, his hands clasped as if in prayer under his chin, with a look of anxiety and affection painted plainly on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~

John was adjusting his suit in the mirror, his bow tie still undone. He smoothed back his sandy hair with a comb and set it down on his side table, his fingers lingering on it. He sighed, and looked up at his reflection. Big grey eyes stared back at him, and he noticed that he looked a little sad. He stood straighter, and as he did a knock came from the other side of his door.

“Come in!” He called back, his hands reaching to tie his bow tie. Mrs. Watson came into his room and smiled at her son.

“Oh, sweetheart, you look so handsome in that suit!” She gushed, making John blush in embarrassment. “Harry will be proud to see her little brother so dressed up, considering you never really do.”

“Well, it is a special occasion, right? I have to dress up, anyway.” He replied, struggling to tie his bow tie. Mrs. Watson strode up to him and took it into her hands and began to tie it efficiently. John turned around to look into the mirror and his mother put her hands on his shoulders affectionately.

“Is Sherlock coming to the wedding?” She asked quietly, her eyes meeting John’s in the mirror.

“I don’t know. I invited him but I didn’t get an answer, so we’ll see when we get to the church.”

During the drive there, John watched the familiar London streets pass by outside. His thoughts were of Sherlock, and of Mycroft’s visit. He hadn’t thought of it much then, but as the weeks began to go by a question began to form in his mind. He tried to bury it so as to not create a false hope for what couldn’t possibly be there, but hope always blossomed in his chest against his permission.

Mr. Watson, Mrs. Watson and John entered the church first, and they all went to go see Harry in the back room. Harry wore a short, angel white dress and her dark brown hair was tied up in a bun and a circlet keeping her curls back. They all grinned at each other, and the sound of voices soared from the main room of the church. John strode back to the main room and took his seat in the first row, leaving his parents behind with Harry. He scanned the room and waved to his side of the family, but his eyes searched for one person: Sherlock.

As the ceremony began, John lost hope of Sherlock being there. He hadn’t completely expected him to be there, as Sherlock hates being around a lot of people. _A wedding is too much, I guess_ , he thought to himself. As the music soared and everyone stood up to look back at Clara and Harry as they walked up the aisle together, John’s eyes settled on a lonely figure in the back row. He gasped to himself, and immediately fixed his eyes on his sister, hoping Sherlock hadn’t noticed the surprise on his face.

The ceremony went on without a hitch, and the crowd of people cheered when the women exchanged their first kisses as each other’s wife. They all proceeded out to their cars to go to the reception party, but John intercepted Sherlock before he walked out the church.

“Sherlock! I’m glad you came!” He said happily. “I wasn’t sure you would, considering you and lots of people don’t mix well together.”

“You’re family has been generous to me over the years, and I’ve learned from my best friend that generosity should be reciprocated.” Sherlock began, glancing around at the people milling out of the building. “Anyways, I… Never mind, it is irrelevant.”

“You can come in our car if you’d like, we have space; and never mind it being irrelevant, what were you going to say?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and answered, “I guess it is useless to argue with you, John. I was going to say that, well, I missed you.” Sherlock looked away from John, his hands clenching at his suit jacket. John looked away also and could barely disguise the grin that was forcing itself onto his face.

“You missed me? My god, Sherlock, you’re rarely sentimental.”

“I know! That is why I said it was irrelevant. Sentiment is hindering in our goals in life.”

Now it was John’s turn to roll his eyes as he climbed into his parents’ car. That evening the festivities began, and John saw Sherlock laugh once or twice at the people dancing on the dance floor. At one point John went out into the small courtyard in the back of the reception area to get some fresh air, and he didn’t hear Sherlock stride up behind him.

“Are you enjoying yourself, John?” He asked, staring out at the garden that was lit up with what seemed like white Christmas lights.

“I am. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Harry so happy… Since the accident, she’s had it a bit rough, but she’s come out of it, you know? And I’m really happy for her.” He answered, smiling grimly at the memory of Harry all bloody and in a hospital bed hooked up with wires everywhere. Sherlock nodded and stayed silent, and John thanked him in his heart for understanding when it came time to not speak a word. He glanced over at Sherlock, and Sherlock met his eyes with his, and they stared for what seemed like ages for John. Only when something changed in Sherlock’s eyes did they look away from each other, and Sherlock smoothed back his curls and turned slightly. John felt a small tugging sensation in his gut, and he suddenly felt a longing to move closer to his friend but he stifled it before he could act irrationally.

“I guess we should be getting back to the party, shouldn’t we?” He inquired slowly. John nodded, and together they went back into the hustle and bustle of Harry and Clara’s wedding night. That night, John wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t hesitated and had gotten closer to Sherlock. He desperately wished he could kiss Sherlock, or at least admit his feelings and have them reciprocated. John shook away his thoughts and tried to sleep, and sleep he did. There was a week left of the summer season, and soon he would be going back to Hogwarts for his seventh year.


	10. Chapter 10

John dragged his trunk behind him in King’s Cross Station, with Harry and Clara beside him, holding hands. As they turned around a corner he glanced at his older sister and smiled, a small jump going into his step and his heart pounding in anticipation. Clara had a younger sister in eighth year, a Gryffindor named Amelia. John had seen her hanging around another Gryffindor named Rory, and he had thought they looked quite adorable together. John sighed at the thought, and his mind turned to Sherlock without meaning to. _We must look quite odd together, considering how different we look_ , John pondered to himself.

 

            They ran through the magical brick wall and found themselves on Platform 9 ¾, which never seemed to fail to surprise Harry as she came out blinking, making John and Clara laugh. Just then, John saw Molly further down the platform, and he waved to Harry good-bye. He trotted off to where she was standing, and Molly greeted John warmly. They got on the train and walked to their normal seats, chatting and catching up a bit on what they hadn’t said in their letters. Lestrade sat at their seats already; reading a book John had let him borrow at the end of the school year. They began to tell each other about their summers, speaking quickly as Molly and Lestrade had to go take care of their Prefect duties. As the train lurched forward for the first time, Sherlock appeared in the doorway, already dressed in his wizarding robes.

 

“Sherlock!” yelled Lestrade excitedly, getting up to pat him on the shoulder. “You know, I discovered a series of… I think they’re called movies. They’re by this guy named after a snake, I don’t remember…”

 

“Monty Python?” John supplied, trying desperately to keep from laughing.

 

“Yes! Anyways, we really need to show them to you, I suddenly understand half of the jokes John made that I didn’t understand before.”

 

“Uh, no.” Sherlock said abruptly, in such a way that John lost his control and curled up laughing in his seat. Sherlock glanced at John and sat down next to Molly in a pout. A few minutes later, after John’s laughter had abated, Molly and Lestrade stood up to go take care of their duties, leaving Sherlock and John alone. John fidgeted in his seat and avoided Sherlock’s gaze, pulling out the book he had read all those years before the first time he was on the Hogwarts Express.

 

“I remember that book.” Sherlock said after a long period of silence, causing John to look up from the novel. Sherlock was watching John, one of his legs folded up against him and one of his hands hiding his mouth. In the light from outside the train, Sherlock looked more beautiful than he had ever been, and it took John’s breath away. It took a few moments for John to answer.

 

“Yeah, it’s the book I was reading the first time we met.” John smiled at the memory, glancing back down at his book.

 

“It’s a good thing we did. Moriarty would’ve convinced me to join him if it wasn’t for you.” Sherlock replied quietly, his light blue eyes staring at the scenery outside. John raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Sherlock elaborated,

 

“He tried to get me to join him in taking over part of the Wizarding world. He said we would shine together, and he also offered to be my… _partner_.” He hissed the last word, a tremor going visibly through his body. “He still hasn’t left me alone about it, and I feel that he’s getting very frustrated about it. I was tempted, in second year. I recognized his intelligence as being equal to mine, and it made me feel less… bored.”

 

Sherlock shook his head and turned his gaze back to John. “But you’ve been my friend since I first stepped on this train, and in third year, when he sent you up in that tree… I can usually ignore what I feel but when you were in that tree I felt angry with Moriarty. I haven’t even considered joining him since then.” Sherlock cleared his throat and looked back outside, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. A look of guilt and shame flashed across Sherlock’s features, and it would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else except John.

 

“Feeling isn’t something to be ashamed of, Sherlock.” He said, addressing his friend’s fear, his heart clenching in sympathy. _What kind of childhood must’ve he had to think that caring isn’t a good thing?_ John thought to himself. Sherlock shifted in his seat and replied,

 

“Aren’t I the one that’s supposed to make the deductions?”

 

John snorted and nervously played with the pages of his book. “Yes, but I’ve known you long enough to notice certain things.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes, darkening slightly in colour even as John watched, focused back on John, and his stomach made a little flip. “Notice what, exactly?”

 

John did a double take, taken aback by Sherlock’s lack of knowledge. _He doesn’t know!_

 

 “Uh, well, just now you accidentally let a bit of emotion through whatever façade you have, and I guess I’ve grown accustomed to you having a certain look that if it changes, I see it.”

 

Sherlock nodded and didn’t answer, and John went back to reading his book. They passed the rest of the train ride in companionable silence, a newfound trust floating in the air between them.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Their seventh year began as all the other years did. The new first years were sorted into their Houses; John commanded the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, the four friends spending as much time as possible together. Their schedules were mismatched, although the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were once again put together in Potions. As the summer wore on and turned into fall, the friends would take frequent walks outside to enjoy the last of the warm weather. Sherlock would usually grumble at these, as he always wanted to be inside conducting an experiment or reading a restricted textbook. When Lestrade pointed out that Moriarty would probably leave Sherlock alone more often if he were around them, Sherlock relented.

 

In late October, they were out taking one of their strolls and Sherlock was being particularly difficult. He had been in the middle of a very important experiment involving eyes, and he was anxious to get back into the school.

 

“How much longer is this going to take?” He groaned impatiently.

 

“Patience, young padawan.” Answered John quietly to himself, chuckling.

 

“What’s so funny? Did you make another reference that Molly and I wouldn’t understand?” Lestrade chimed in.

 

“Yes, and that means I need to add another movie to the list of movies I need to show you.”

 

“Movies are pointless. They are highly inaccurate and take up valuable time.” Sherlock added.

 

“Oi, don’t degrade movies, they make up a huge part of the muggle culture!” Molly called back, having walked ahead lost in her thoughts.

 

John shivered, having underestimated how cold it was outside. Sherlock took notice and took off his scarf, handing it to John. Lestrade shared a glance with Molly while John nodded a silent thank you to his friend.

 

“Me wearing a Slytherin scarf, people might talk.” John commented, tying the green piece of cloth around his neck and suddenly inhaling a full breath of Sherlock’s scent.

 

“People do little else, John.” He answered, and the group walked on in silence in the sunlight, going back into the school an hour later when Sherlock’s anxiety became too annoying for them to bear.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Christmas time seemed to sneak up on John, and suddenly it was snowing outside and the Great Hall was littered with Christmas lights and floating candles. He sat at the Hufflepuff table, close to the front where the teachers would sit at their table. A few Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks lay open but John paid no attention to them. His arms were crossed in front of him and his head rested on them and he was dozing off, unaware of the few people milling about around him. John raised his head only when he felt a few taps on his shoulder, and he looked beside him to see Sherlock sitting rather close to him and reading the notes John had written down.

 

“Oh, god, how long was I out?” John asked, rubbing his eyes and looking about in embarrassment.

 

“About an hour, from how wet your ink is on the page. Bad night, I gather?”

 

“Yeah, actually… Didn’t get much sleep.” John answered, beginning to read over the last paragraph he had read. Sherlock stayed quiet for a few minutes before continuing,

 

“Is it the nightmares?”

 

John stopped everything he was doing and looked at Sherlock.

 

“How do you know about the nightmares?”

 

“Ever since Harry’s accident, once in awhile you would have a nightmare. Nothing too horrible, it seemed, you didn’t move around much and you barely made a sound, except when you spoke in your sleep. Always Harry’s name. The morning after you would be more tired than usual, and especially after the worst nights you can barely pay attention to anything.” Sherlock replied while looking back at John. “We’ve slept in the same room many times, I’m surprised you thought it would’ve escaped my attention.”

 

“Well, a lot of things escape your attention, Sherlock.” John said without thinking and regretting it immediately. Sherlock’s face smoothed out except for a slight creasing around the eyes in confusion and answered,

 

“Like what?”

 

“Never mind, Sherlock. If I think of an example I’ll tell you.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Christmas came and went, with Lestrade, Molly, John and Sherlock all spending it with John’s family in their home on Rusthall Avenue. Molly and Lestrade were continually amazed by all the muggle appliances in their house, and John watched them, amused, as they learned how to use some of them. Sherlock leaned on the counter in the corner, lost in thought and completely oblivious to the conversation from the other side of the room. As Molly and Lestrade moved to the living room with their first cups of “muggle cocoa”, John looked back at the unmoving figure. Sherlock had really grown over the years, much taller than John could ever dream to be, and had grown very lean but slightly muscular by how his shirt covered him. His curls were their usual messiness, except for one renegade curl sticking straight up into the air. Leaning with his arms crossed and having been silent for a long time, Sherlock seemed impossibly far away for someone who stood just a couple feet away from John, and it unnerved John. He took one step towards Sherlock and raised his hand, then remembered that Sherlock may need to be alone for a little bit and changed his mind. He turned back around to go join the others in the living room, but a deep baritone voice made him hesitate.

 

“What were you doing?”

 

John gazed back at Sherlock, who’s head had lifted to allow his piercing eyes to scan over him. What Sherlock saw seemed to answer his question, and he nodded to himself.

 

“I, uh… Well, I’m guessing you probably already know so there’s no point in repeating. You hate repeating.”

 

“Yes, but your voice isn’t as annoying as the others and it makes repeating less tedious.”

 

Sherlock shook his head slightly and bounced off the counter. He paused slightly beside John, watching his face, then kept on moving to the living room across the hallway to where Molly and Lestrade were looking at the artificial fire place, intrigued. Sherlock turned back in the doorway and answered softly,

 

“You wanted to ask me if I was alright, but you also want to respect my need to be alone with my thoughts. That made you hesitate, and for the fact that you consider me a friend, you decided to respect what I needed, making you leave once more. However, I didn’t need to be alone with my thoughts, but thank you anyway.”

 

John raised his eyebrows at the rare thanks, and followed Sherlock into the living room. The four friends sat that night watching Star Wars, much to the amusement of John as he watched his friends’ reactions. Lestrade and John sat on the small couch while Sherlock and Molly sat on the ground. Sherlock’s head was right in front of John’s hand, and as the movie wore on a single dark curl found itself wrapped around one of John’s fingers. Molly watched transfixed, Lestrade looked mildly confused while Sherlock seemed annoyed at the moving images on the screen, complaining about the idiocy of the whole franchise.

 

When they were half way through the second Star Wars movie (“We can’t just leave it there! There’s 5 more, and it isn’t that late, anyway.” Lestrade had cried out), Molly was passed out with her head leaned back on Lestrade’s knee while he sat forward in his seat with his eyes trained stubbornly on the screen against exhaustion. Sherlock was still wide-awake, tapping impatiently on his knee and glaring furiously at the television. The curl was still wrapped around John’s finger, and he only noticed when his hand fidgeted slightly. He glanced down at the curl and smiled tiredly. He moved his hand forward without thinking and buried his fingers in the hair at the nape of Sherlock’s neck, and leaned back to close his eyes. The last thing he remembered before sleep took him was Sherlock pausing in his tapping and leaning back into John’s hand, rubbing his head back and forth slightly as his fingers rubbed against his head.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A few hours later John woke up to the main menu theme playing quietly and his friends all passed out around him. Sherlock was included, much to John’s surprise, and his friend had leaned back further so the John’s whole hand was buried in the dark brown curls. He blinked away some of the sleepiness and leaned forward, effectively waking up Lestrade with his movement.

 

“S’wha? Oh, it’s done…”

 

“Yeah, mate, we can go upstairs to Harry’s old room. The mattresses are already set up and Molly will get my bed, come on, up you get.”

 

John pulled his hand reluctantly from under Sherlock’s head, pulling a small groan from Sherlock.

 

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were asleep.” John whispered, nudging Molly softly to get her to wake up.

 

“I wash… Only thinking, wasn’t asheep.” Sherlock slurred, drawing a small smile from John.

 

“We can all go upstairs now and go to bed. Come on, Molly.”

 

Sherlock and John stood up one after the other, while Lestrade moved himself from under Molly’s head. Her eyes slowly opened, and they all went upstairs, whispering their good-nights, John going up last. Sherlock paused outside Harry’s door and looked down at John. John finished climbing the stairs, and in a split second decision, way past the level of exhaustion to think of what he was doing, he leaned into Sherlock’s body and wrapped his arms around him. He turned his head and pressed his whole body length to his friend’s taller frame and sighed, a small smile spreading across his face. Sherlock stiffened, but after a few seconds he relaxed, his hands moving to gingerly hold John closer and his head turning to rest on top of John’s. They stayed that way for a few minutes, until John felt himself slipping back into sleep and suddenly pulled himself from Sherlock’s arms.

 

“Sorry, I was falling back asleep.” He said in way of explanation, and Sherlock nodded, his face blank.

 

They sneaked quietly into Harry’s room to find Lestrade already fast asleep on the mattress closest to the door. Sherlock grabbed some pyjamas from his bag and left for the bathroom while John stripped to his pants and pulled a pair of trousers and a loose grey t-shirt. He settled down on the mattress in the middle and curled up under his covers, and he barely heard Sherlock sneak back into the room and settle on his own. He turned in his bed to face Sherlock, and he heard Sherlock turn to face him too as sleep finally took him back into its grasp.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

John woke up calmly the next morning, the night being blissfully nightmare-free. He kept his eyes closed for a long while in bliss, and it took him a few minutes to notice that his arm was colder than the rest of his body while his hand was surprisingly warm. He opened one eye up slightly and cringed at the white light coming through the open blind of the window. John looked down at his arm and saw that it was outside of his covers, and his breath caught in his chest when he saw what was keeping his hand warm.

 

Sherlock lay curled up in a ball under the covers, his hair barely poking out from the top of the pink spare blankets. John stared at the protruding white arm that stuck out from under them, and at the long fingers currently tangled in his own. His eyes wide, he lifted his head to get a better view, and still in disbelief at his luck, he settled back into the mattress. He didn’t dare keep his hand there, but at the same time he couldn’t pull his fingers away. As he was debating silently whether he should take his fingers away before Sherlock woke up, the figure under the covers moved and he heard an intake of breath, meaning that Sherlock was awake. John stiffened and waited, worried that Sherlock would look up to see their hands together and pull away. After what seemed like a lifetime, Sherlock poked his head out from where it was hiding and looked at John.

 

Sherlock’s eyes bore into John’s when he saw that his were open too, and when Sherlock looked away it was to glance down at their intertwined fingers. He slowly raised his head back up to look at John, and smiled slightly. Sherlock pulled his arm back under his blankets, but unexpectedly kept John’s hand firmly grasped in his. Sherlock nudged closer to the side of the mattress and curled even more, holding John’s hand against his heart. John felt the pitter-patter of Sherlock’s heart underneath the cloth of his t-shirt, and he felt frozen in place, shocked by Sherlock’s out-of-character affection. Their faces were only a foot apart, the lack of space in the room making it that there wasn’t any room in between the mattresses. He bit his lip to calm himself, and blew out some air that he had no idea he was holding in. Sherlock’s curls on his forehead moved in the moving air, and Sherlock moved his head closer and out of John’s way of breathing. They stayed that way for a while, and only when they heard a groan from Lestrade behind them did Sherlock finally relinquish his grasp on John’s hand.

 

“G’morning, guys.”

 

“Good morning, Lestrade.”

 

“You sound strangely awake for this time of day.”

 

“I’ve been awake for awhile, I don’t know how long, though. I think my mum went downstairs earlier, maybe she’s making pancakes.”

Lestrade groaned again and John heard him sit up and stretch. John turned around and stretched too, and as he looked back at Lestrade he saw that Lestrade was watching Sherlock and John in puzzlement.  
"What?" John asked.  
"Oh, what? Nothing, nothing. I'm gonna go get dressed and see if Molly's up." Lestrade answered, and he stood up and grabbed his bag and went out of the room while yawning. John turned back to look at Sherlock, and was startled to see those piercing eyes watching him. John glanced down at the hand that had been in Sherlock's grasp and bit his lip, and sighed. _No use in hiding my feelings anymore, if this morning was any indication,_ he thought, and he turned back to look at Sherlock.  
"You were quite affectionate last night." The deep baritone rumbled, lower than usual due to sleepiness, sending sparks down to between John's legs and warning bells to his brain. He tried to recall what had happened between getting up from the sofa and getting into bed, and he had a hard time doing so.  
"You gave me a hug, if you're wondering... A very long one at that."  
"Ah, okay. Sorry... If it made you uncomfortable or anything, you know..."   
" It's fine. I didn't mind, I was unusually affectionate too."  
John nodded and went to get up, but Sherlock grabbed his hand again and John slouched back on the bed.  
" I hope it doesn't... I mean, if the hug isn't something you wish to repeat, it's fine. "  
John grinned and squeezed the fingers holding his.  
"Don't worry, I didn't mind it at all."  
He stood up and moved to where he had set out clothes for himself and began to pick out what he needed to get dressed. Lestrade strode past the doorway and went downstairs, so John decided to go to the unoccupied bathroom to change. When he came back out, both bedrooms were empty and laughter floated up from downstairs. John descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen to find his mum making pancakes and his three best friends sitting at the small dining table.   
He grinned at the sight and joined them, and that day went by with more Star Wars movies. The three friends left the day after, and John immediately felt their absence in his heart. He decided to go work on the homework that he had been given for over the holidays, but he couldn't concentrate. All he could think about was the feeling of Sherlock's head in his palm and Sherlock's hand clasped around his against his heart. He had no idea how to judge those two memories, but one thing was certain: Sherlock knew that John liked him, and maybe, just maybe, if the other night had been any indication, Sherlock may like him back too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May be triggers. However, the rise of true Johnlock is coming, guys... The east wind is coming.

The rest of the holidays were uneventful, although John spent most of it in confusion over what Sherlock may be feeling about him. He didn’t mention it in any of the owl letters he sent to him, and Sherlock didn’t mention it either. John had to admit that it made him feel a bit horrible, because for a few blissful minutes it was as if all his dreams to be with Sherlock were coming true, but then it came to a staggering end. He wrote to Molly about it, but she couldn’t offer any kind of comfort except to promise him a nice cuppa once they got back to school.

The day before he went back to Hogwarts, he found himself sitting at the kitchen table while his mum was cooking dinner, staring at the white tablecloth and picking at the loose ends. They spent a few minutes in companionable silence, until Mrs. Watson broke the silence.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

John looked up from the small blue flowers lining the side of the cloth and opened his mouth to answer, when suddenly a small lump formed in his throat and closed it again. He smiled slightly, and then began to speak anew.

“I think I like Sherlock, mum, and not just as a friend. I’ve been wondering this for a while now and I’m certain that I do, but I don’t know if he likes guys. I thought I liked girls, I still do, but Sherlock…”

His mum didn’t say anything, and he took that as encouragement and kept going.

“The other night, Sherlock did something, and I don’t know what to think of it, mum. Well, more than one thing. I don’t know what to do and what to think, I want to maybe take it above just friends but if I try, I don’t know if he’ll be okay with it. I’m at a loss of what to do.”

Mrs. Watson glanced back at her son and smiled in understanding, and she stirred the sauce a couple more times and then walked over to sit in a chair close to John.

“Johnny, life is filled with constant ups and downs and sudden turns, and we can’t see it happening. It’s as if we’re on a rollarcoaster, but we’re in the dark with a small panel in front of us with a couple buttons. We can’t see what’s ahead, but whenever the buttons light up, we have to choose: take the risk, or play it safe? We have no idea what will happen, but the ups and downs will happen no matter what we do. So with that in mind, what would you do when the buttons light up?”

“Well, I… I guess I would take the risk. Wow, I sound like a Gryffindor when I say that.”

“Well, you did almost get put into Gryffindor, remember? You said that in the first letter you sent to us.”

“That’s true… I wonder why the Hat put me in Hufflepuff.”

“Go with your heart, Johnny. If you want more, and even if you didn’t tell me what Sherlock did, maybe if you took the risk, good will come of it.”

John bit his lip and nodded, and stood. “I have some more homework to finish, I’ll go do that now. Thanks, mum.”

“You’re very welcome, honey.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

John was silent in the car as Harry drove him to King’s Cross Station. The sky outside was gloomy and the air felt thick, and his head was bent against the cold as they walked to the doors and snaked their way through the crowds with his trunk trailing behind him; Naya cooing softly under the cloth that covered her cage. They ran through the barrier onto the platform and the noise seemed to double with the amount of students milling around. A few greetings from his classmates rang through the air as he walked with Harry, and he waved to Victoria and Amelie and Cassandra, who stood in a circle talking excitedly. He then turned and squeezed Harry’s arm in a way of saying good-bye before going onto his usual car. He squeezed through the crowds of students filling up the corridor until he got to the right seats and went through the doorway to find it still empty. He settled down on one of the benches close to the window and stared blindly out at the platform.

“Hey, John! Usually you get here later than us!” Lestrade chimed in as he walked through the door with Molly in tow.

“Harry had work today so we came early.”

Molly and Lestrade sat down on the bench opposite of John and began to chat freely, not noticing that John was in a bit of a darker mood that morning. After a bit of joking around, though, John began to feel a bit less lost and began to laugh and join in with the conversation. John almost felt relaxed when the train lurched forward and Sherlock strode in, out of breath.

“Sometimes I absolutely abhor my brother.” He said and flung himself onto the bench that John was on in the corner next to the door. He curled up in a ball and stayed silent with no further explanation, and the three others just looked at each other and shrugged and went back to talking about the many adventures of Ginger, Molly’s cat. John glanced often at Sherlock, even after Molly and Lestrade had gone to do their prefect duties. Even if he didn’t physically see him, he felt his presence by the door. The train wheels chugged along and the scenery passed by with every passing hour, and after a while John felt like he couldn’t take the uncertainty any longer.

“Sherlock.” John whispered, his voice fading a bit due to a lack of courage, then cleared his throat and tried to speak louder, “Sherlock?”

“Hmm?” Came the only answer from the body covered in the belstaff coat.

“About… the other night. I’m a bit lost… Oh, you know how horrible I am at feelings, you’ve known me long enough.”

“John, please refrain from trying to explain how you feel, and failing at that, and instead say what is really bothering you.”

John looked up suddenly and frowned at Sherlock in confusion, then his shoulders slumped and he settled back in the seat. He sighed in defeat, and answered,

“I want, no, need. I need to know how you feel about me because the other night was not something that happened between just friends.”

Sherlock didn’t answer, and John threw up his hands in frustration and gave up, choosing to not say a word and just watch the trees fly past outside. John’s hands clenched and unclenched in his lap continually, betraying the frustration that still ran through his veins as his heart pounded a soft rhythm.

“What I feel for you is of no relevance, John. I can’t make you happy, I still don’t even know how any of you think of me as a friend.” Sherlock finally said, his words muffled by the wall. John glanced back as Sherlock finally uncurled himself and turned his head towards him. “I would rather stay just friends than try for something more and have it fail.”

“But doesn’t that kind at eat you inside? Because it is for me.”

“As I said, irrelevant. Caring is not an advantage.” Sherlock repeated the words he’s said often over the years, shrugged and curled up once again, leaving John even more confused and hurt than before. The rest of the train ride went by in silence, and John put on a brave face when Molly and Lestrade returned. That night, when he was back in his bed in the Hufflepuff Common Room, he kept turning the events over and over in his head, at a loss of what to do and if he really should take a risk and press the button.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“John, pay attention. After we add in the powdered moonstone, we need to stir…”

Once again Sherlock’s words fazed out of focus and John was back in his thoughts. That day he had felt a bit dizzy when he had woken up, but he had ignored it. He had missed breakfast due to sleeping in accidentally and had barely eaten anything at lunch, and now he was really regretting what little he had eaten. He closed his eyes against a sudden wave of nausea, and breathed in a huge gulp of air to try and make it go away. His stomach threatened to rebel against him again, and he stifled a small groan. A tap on his shoulder made him look up.

            “Mr. Watson, I do believe Mr. Holmes has made the whole potion by himself. Due to your lack of participation, I will need to give you a zero.” Professor Snape drawled, his eyes narrowed. John couldn’t think of anything to answer, and really couldn’t draw up the effort to care.

            “Sir.”

            “Yes, Mr. Holmes?”

            “It seems as if John isn’t feeling very well. That may be why he hasn’t been able to participate. My words have barely even been understood during the whole of this class.” Sherlock said to Professor Snape, facing him completely and putting a sort of force in his voice that seemed to get him to rethink.

            “Hmm…” Snape observed John once more, “Mr. Watson does seem… sickly. Fine then, since you’ve finished the potion, put some in a vial and put it on my desk for examination. You may then clear your table and accompany Mr. Watson to the hospital wing. He is still, however, getting a zero.”

"I can go on my own, if you want..." John murmured, not even sure if he was heard. Sherlock nodded in understanding and answered just as quietly,   
"No, you look as if you're about to pass out. I can't let you go on your own."  
John groaned and set his head down on the table to wait for Sherlock. A few minutes later, he was coaxed up and guided out into the cooler corridor. The cold helped to clear his mind a little, but just enough to be able to assess how terrible he felt. John put an open palm on his forehead and winced; only now noticing a banging in his head and how his head felt sensitive to the touch. He moved sluggishly down the hall, Sherlock walking ahead until he noticed how far behind John was.   
"John?" Sherlock asked while putting a hand on John’s elbow. Sherlock's voice seemed very far away, and he struggled to look up at the taller man's face. What he saw surprised him: open concern marked its lines on the pale skin, his eyes scrunched up in worry and his lips pursed. Sherlock tugged on John's arm and led him through the corridors, and John didn't really notice how much they had traversed until they stood in front of the familiar hospital wing. Sherlock let him go and pushed him gently against the wall for support and went to open the big wooden doors. When he reappeared, John had slid down to the stone floor and covered his eyes with his hands. Sherlock pulled him up and supported him into the hospital wing, bringing him to one of the unoccupied beds at the farthest end of the room. John collapsed onto the bed in a heap, groaning in exhaustion and discomfort. All he could remember before passing out was a cold hand clasping his, a frozen comfort in the heat that was rapidly spreading through his body.

~~~~~~~~~~~

John came to after what seemed like millennia, but gradually. He began to hear voices through his fretful dreams, and they progressively got louder and louder until he burst through the surface of consciousness, disoriented. He kept his eyes closed, but the pounding in his head had gone down to a minimal drumbeat. He inhaled deeply, and he suddenly felt an emptiness in his hand.

“John? Are you awake?” Came a female voice from his left.

He tried to answer but an unintelligible sound came out of his mouth, and the noise he created made his throat seem to burst into flames. He moaned in pain, and he heard some shuffling to his right.

“Okay, good. John, listen to me, you need to drink some of this. I know it tastes horrendous but it’s for your own good, you’ll feel much better once you do.”

Cold glass touched his lips, and suddenly parched he opened his mouth to take in the liquid. He gagged almost immediately at the horrific taste, but having understood the woman he tried to drink as much as he could. After a few sips he moaned and shook his head, and the glass went away. He tried to open his eyes, and with a monstrous effort he succeeded. His surroundings didn’t focus right away, but after blinking a few times he could finally look up at whoever was around him.

The room was dark, with candles on each of the end tables and torches on the walls lighting up everything. It had been mid-afternoon when he collapsed, but it seemed as if it was now late evening. Madam Pomfrey stood to his left, and as he watched she put her hand on his forehead and tutted.

“You’re still burning up like crazy, but it isn’t as bad. You’re going to have to stay here overnight, if not through tomorrow too. Good thing it’s the weekend, you won’t have to catch up too much in your courses,” She told John, and then she addressed someone to his right, “Call out if you need anything, alright?”

She walked away to one of the other beds, which had a third year Ravenclaw girl lying on it. A soft murmur of voices came from them, but John was too tired to try and focus on what was being said. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, then his eyes widened and he searched to his right.

“Sh’lock?”

Sherlock glanced up from the thick textbook he was reading to look at John. His face seemed to soften when his eyes settled on John’s face.

“It isn’t smart to talk now, John. You need rest.”

“Wha… What are you doing here?” He finally stumbled out, and Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the question.

“You were in an obvious state of confusion on the way here and it was safe to assume that you would have no idea why you were here, so I decided to stay in case you needed some calming down.”

John shook his head in disbelief but spoke no further. His chest warmed at the thought of Sherlock staying, and it made his heart clench in happiness. He turned back his head so that he could stare at the ceiling, and after a few minutes of silence he was fast asleep once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, John woke up alone in the hospital wing. He licked his chapped lips and tried to sit up but found he was too weak, and settled back into the comfortable mattress in defeat. He was alone in the hospital wing; the other little girl not being in her bed. He sighed shakily, and right at that moment he heard distant footsteps coming closer. He managed to turn his head to watch the entrance just as the doors opened, and Sherlock stepped through sneakily. He met John's eyes and his eyebrows raised in surprise, and he strode over and settled in the chair beside his bed.  
"Um, good morning?" John said questioningly.  
Sherlock snorted in annoyance and whispered,  
"I'm not exactly supposed to be here, so you may want to speak a bit more quietly."  
"Oh, sorry." John answered in murmur.  
A few short moments passed, Sherlock and John still staring at each other. It didn't feel very awkward, but John knew that if it continued it may become awkward.  
"So... Why, exactly, are you here? How early is it?"

“It’s around 7 in the morning.” Came a curt reply, and Sherlock settled back in the chair and pulled out a textbook that seemed vaguely dangerous, but John decided not to question it.

“You didn’t answer my other question.”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here? In the hospital wing, with me.”

“Ah. Well… I thought that would’ve been obvious.” Sherlock glanced up as he spoke and rolled his eyes dramatically, then settling on John once more and scrutinizing him. His mouth opened to form a circle in understanding. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Mm… No, not really, no.”

“I… Care. For you. I was worried about how sick you were, and I felt it necessary that I stay with you as much as possible so that it wouldn’t get worse.” Sherlock stumbled in response, bringing his eyes back down to the creamy pages of the textbook. He shifted in his seat and began to read, and John could only stare in shock. Sherlock Holmes, admitting to feeling something as strong as caring about another person? John shook his head and turned back his head to stare at the ceiling, and within a few minutes he succumbed once again to sleep before he could get Sherlock to elaborate.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later, once John was fully recovered from his ordeal and life at Hogwarts had returned to normal, he took a stroll outside. The winter air had warmed up a bit, and the sun was gleaming and making the snow around the path sparkle like a million little stars. He inhaled a huge gulp of pure country air and sighed in contentment. He thought back to all those years ago when he got that life-changing letter in the post, and how much his life would’ve been different if he had been just a normal muggle. _I wouldn’t be thinking of myself as a muggle,_ John thought to himself while chuckling. He reached up to tie his scarf a bit tighter around his neck against a sudden burst of wind, but he didn’t mind. Just the fact that everything could’ve been so different and yet it had ended up that way was something that he was eternally grateful for. He gazed at the Forbidden Forest and at Hagrid’s little hut, and then back at the expanse of Hogwarts and its sky-high towers. He grinned to himself, and he began the long trudge back up to the castle. At the back of his head came a thought, one that would ring out through out the rest of the day. _If I hadn’t had that letter, I would’ve never met Sherlock_ , and he quickly silenced the ensuing what-ifs that branched out from that little bit of pondering in his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The snow began to melt and the winter melded into spring, much to the relief of everyone in the castle. The teachers kept on piling huge amounts of homework but John managed to work through it all with Sherlock. They didn’t speak about the moments where space seemed to vanish between them and when the air became electrified with unspoken emotion, and John often wondered what would happen if he mentioned it. He decided after barely a few minutes of thinking that Sherlock was human but he wasn’t like the others, and that he really needs his space when it comes to emotion, so John stayed forcefully quiet. It ate away at John sometimes but he decided that the friendship they had, at that moment, would have to be good enough.

As spring turned into the beginning of the summer season and exams were rapidly approaching, John began to feel like the stress was like a mountain on his shoulders. The only thing that seemed to take his mind off of things were Sherlock and his multiple Quidditch matches. It was the last one of the year, and Hufflepuff had made it to the finals once again. The crowd was roaring, pulsing with various shades of yellow and green. They rose up on their brooms with the Slytherins on the opposite side, and John braced himself for the rise of adrenaline in his veins. He looked over at the Beater beside him, the girl named Alanna, who all those years ago had given advice on how to get on the team. She grinned at John and turned back to focus on the Slytherins, and John did the same. The whistle blew and they were off, zooming in and out of each other in an effort to score points. Cheers and groans came in equal measure from the crowd in the stands, but John could only scan the air around everyone, looking for a small golden sphere. The Slytherin Seeker, a third year boy that John had forgotten his name, glided back and forth on the opposite side of the field, also searching the air.

The minutes ticked on, and John began to feel a bit on edge. The Snitch usually showed itself to one of the Seekers before then, and it hadn’t made even a single appearance. He licked his lips and gripped his broom a bit tighter, and then he heard it: a small tinkling noise behind him to his left. He whipped around and spotted it, barely a hundred feet away from him and only a couple feet above. John bent down on his broom and sped off, and the crowd seemed to cheer impossibly louder when they saw that he had seen it. The Slytherin Seeker joined him a few seconds later, and together they flew after the Snitch.

After around 30 minutes of flying after the increasingly difficult-to-catch Snitch, they found themselves very close to the ground. The grass was a blur at how fast he was going, but he didn’t pay it any attention. The Slytherin Seeker was beside him but just slightly behind, and he had the advantage of being a bit bigger and having longer arms. He stretched out his arm to try and snatch at the Snitch but missed, tipping slightly into the other Seeker’s space, who groaned in annoyance. John steadied himself once more, and as they were nearing the edge of the field he reached out again and missed, but this time he lost his balance.

Time seemed to slow down and everything took on a blinding focus in detail. He floated for only a second but then he was smashing into the ground, the air around him rushing and bending past him. He bounced on the ground a couple times and rolled to a stop right before hitting the wall. John groaned by instinct, but everything was awash with white light and dark spots danced in front of his eyes. He felt completely numb, he was blind and seemingly deaf, but the peace was short-lived.

The pain came roaring like an inferno, burning every single part of his body with searing intensity. Instead of white and black, he began to see red, and his head pounded like a jackhammer. What hurt the most, though, was his shoulder: it was like a high point of pain and the rest of his body felt like a siren’s song compared to it. He let his head roll back onto the grass and he felt consciousness start to fade away from him. All he remembered before he passed out was him whispering a name over and over, a name that never left his lips and one that never completely faded from his mind. _Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock…_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, but of course there's an epilogue that I will post tomorrow. It has been a wonderful whirlwind, and I'm glad I could've shared it with all of you. MAY BE TRIGGERS.

For the second time that year he woke up in the hospital wing, but this time Molly and Lestrade were there, and a couple other people from Hufflepuff. Molly, Lestrade, Victoria and Alanna all stood off to the side, Lestrade with his arm around Molly’s waist in comfort. They were all watching him and whispering, and when he opened his eyes a visible tremor of relief washed through all of them. He took in a breath and winced, his abdomen seeming to light on fire and sear pain through his very core. Right away, Madam Pomfrey appeared with another potion, one that tasted very sweet and took away the brunt of the pain. He relaxed back into the pillow and closed his eyes against the light coming from the nearby window, and he began to feel a bit drowsy. He suspected that it was the potion at work, and he vaguely heard Madam Pomfrey tell everyone crowding his bed to leave, and he heard an answering retort from Molly and Lestrade to be left with him. A few minutes later it was quiet and peaceful, and he opened his eyes once more to see Molly and Lestrade on either side of his bed.

 

“John? How are you feeling?” Molly asked gently, putting her hand on top of his.

 

“Oh God, everything fucking hurts.” He answered slowly, testing out his ability to talk. “The potion is helping, but I still feel numb and it still aches something terrible.”

 

“You took a really, really hard fall, mate.” Lestrade chimed in, “You’ve been unconscious for hours, they had no idea how well you would be once you woke up.”

 

“Well, my brain seems to be working, there’s that, right?”

 

“Yeah, I guess so.”

 

“Oh, Sherlock is coming soon, he had an experiment that he couldn’t leave on its own so he’s cleaning that up, but he’ll come soon.” Molly added.

 

“Sherlock cleaning up an experiment? What, scraping it and tossing it? That is so unlike him, I’m not even sure he’s telling the truth.” Lestrade said incredulously.

 

“Well, there’s a lot he would do when there’s things that are higher priorities than the experiments, you know that.”

 

“Yes, but Molly, _nothing_ is higher priority.”

 

“John is.”

 

Lestrade stared at her with his mouth hanging open, but didn’t argue. They sat there in silence, and John watched them, too drowsy to join in with the argument. He had to admit that what Molly said made sense, but the full meaning didn’t hit him until the familiar mess of curly dark brown hair pushed through the doors into the room. John watched Sherlock lazily, and he almost didn’t register the amount of pure emotion etching its lines through Sherlock’s face.Worry was the forefront of the emotions, but protectiveness and something that was not entirely friendship lay out in the open for him to see. Molly and Lestrade both stood up as soon as he came in and murmured goodbyes to John and hurried out, leaving the two men alone. John tried to call for them, but then understood what they were doing. _Maybe they realize Sherlock’s feelings more than I ever did,_ he thought. Sherlock moved slowly, uncertain whether he should be going closer or not. When he saw that John wasn't going to ask him to leave, he moved more quickly until Sherlock stood towering beside John's bed. Without thinking, John reached out with a hand and grabbed Sherlock's fingers in an attempt to make contact. They didn't speak, just looked at each other, and John concentrated on the contact that they had, grateful that Sherlock didn’t pull away.  
"You look horrible." Sherlock whispered, taking a chair from behind and lowering himself onto it but without breaking the contact of their fingers.  
John tried to smile but failed, grimacing when it stretched out invisible scratches and bruises. They stayed like that for hours until the sun went down and Madam Pomfrey came in to shoo Sherlock away. After an argument that lasted a good while, she relented and Sherlock stayed, since the game had been on a Friday afternoon and there weren't any classes to go to. As the hours passed, their hands stayed comfortably clasped beside John, and it comforted him immensely, and made him feel cared for. John fell asleep slowly, the drowsiness finally taking its toll on him. He squeezed Sherlock's fingers as a last thought, and he descended into a dreamless rest with Sherlock as a guardian by his side.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The Hogwarts Express blew its whistle as it pulled away from the station, and John waved good-bye to Hagrid, who stood guard on the wooden flooring. John glanced up and stared until Hogwarts disappeared from view, and he thought, _one more year... I'm going to miss this place._ He had heard that they would possibly be changing the amount of time at Hogwarts to 7 years instead of 8, and he felt a bit bad for those who wouldn’t get to live there for an extra year. John shifted back in his seat so that he could face Lestrade and Molly, who were discussing their favourite magical music bands. They seemed rapt with each other, so he only listened, but eventually he just watched the forest outside go by.  
Every time they hit a bump, the cars would sway and Sherlock would press himself against John for a second. Each time that happened, John felt sparks go up in his arm from the contact, and he wished that at some point it wouldn’t take random bumps in the road to pull them together. Sherlock was sitting quite close for the amount of space they had on the bench, and he really couldn’t complain.  
He looked down at his left arm in the sling and sighed. They had given him a list of careers that he couldn't go into with his shoulder, and field medic had been one of them. It had started to really interest him but due to some kind of twisted fate he couldn't do it anymore. He didn't have to give up on that particular dream, considering he could still be a doctor at St. Mungo's, but it was still a bit disappointing.  
A few hours later after having fallen asleep, he woke up and found that Sherlock and him were alone. He was reading a textbook, once again, but it seemed much older than the rest he had seen him read. John tried to look at the words on the page, but still a bit disoriented from sleep he couldn't get the words to focus.  
"Welcome back." Sherlock said suddenly, his voice low, mindful, it seemed, of the fact that John had just woken up.  
"Uh, thanks. I'm guessing Molly and Lestrade are out being prefects?"  
"Yep." He answered, popping the ending. John nodded in understanding and went back to sleep.  
They arrived at the station just after supper, and they moved through the throng of people together, weaving in and out as best they could with their trunks and owl cages. They walked out into the warm evening air, and John followed Sherlock to the familiar jet-black car. John was supposed to stay with Sherlock for a few days at Baker Street before going to his grandmother's for a few weeks. The cars around them moved in tandem as the streets flew past, and the city lights shone through the windows and cast shadows across Sherlock's face. His blue-green eyes stared outside, unmoving and unseeing of the buildings and people going about. He looked ethereal in the light, and it took John's breath away, making his heart clench in his chest. He turned to gaze outside his own window and tried to forget, forget the possibilities that were in his grasp but could never come to be, if Sherlock really felt like he couldn’t do it.  
When they arrived at 221b Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson greeted them warmly and pulled John into a hug, even though she was now much shorter than John.  She tutted in concern over his arm, but he reassured her that it looked worse than it really was. Sherlock brought up his trunk and owl cage and then came downstairs to get John’s, which John tried to protest.

 

“John, you have an arm that clearly doesn’t work, and I think it’s going to be particularly hard for you to bring up your trunk.”

 

“Oh, for god’s sake… At least let me bring Naya’s cage.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes but nodded, and together they carried their things upstairs. As he climbed the stairs, Sherlock paused and glanced down and said,

 

“Did you know that not only could they be changing the number of years at Hogwarts, but the age at which we can use magic outside of school legally? Instead of it being 16, it’ll be 17.”

 

“Huh, interesting. I wonder why they’re doing that.”

 

The flat was empty of people, Mycroft being at work for most of the time. Sherlock sighed in annoyance at the fact that the place was immaculate, and began to shuffle some papers around.

 

“What are you doing?” John asked, going into the kitchen to make himself a glass of water.

 

“Mycroft suffers from a small case of OCD.” He said in way of explanation, and he then took his trunk and rolled it to his room down the hall. John leaned on the counter and looked around, noticing that they had a new fridge. His stomach growled and he pulled open the fridge door, saw some things he liked and pulled them out and began making a sandwich. John had started making a second one for Sherlock when his friend came back into the kitchen, who then promptly took John’s sandwich and took a bite. John pursed his lips in exasperation but said nothing, and Sherlock went into the living room and disappeared. John heard the television click on and faint mumbling float into the kitchen, and when he finished his sandwich he joined Sherlock on the couch. The night passed by with the two friends laughing and joking around and the constant commentary from Sherlock about the inaccuracy of everything that was shown on the screen.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Okay, what the _hell_ is that doing in the fridge?” John yelled, jumping back in shock and the fridge door closing with a bang.

 

“What is what doing in the fridge?” Sherlock answered from his bedroom, a bit too innocently.

 

“There is a _severed_ _head_ in the fridge. Next to the food.”

 

“Your point being?”

 

“Can’t you keep the dismembered body parts in another spot? Or maybe, away from the bloody food.” John said as he stormed into Sherlock’s room. Sherlock sat with multiple papers all around him with his hands under his chin as if in prayer, his eyes closed. “I know I don’t live here, but I’d still like to have my sandwich without being scared of catching god-knows-what from everything you store in there.”

 

“I wouldn’t have been able to keep it for very long. I’m measuring the coagulation of saliva after death, it’s important for a certain potion I want to try to brew.”

 

John opened his mouth and threw his hands up in the air. At a loss for words, he decided to go back into the living room. He stood in the middle of the room and looked around at the cozy little flat. Books were everywhere, evidence that Sherlock was once again at home. The windows were wide open to the summer air and the sounds of the London street below grounded him. He took in a deep breath to calm himself but his stomach growled, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. He would have to go buy more food, then. He turned back around and was about to walk back to Sherlock’s room to tell him that he was going to go out and buy take-out when he saw that Sherlock had gotten up and followed him into the living room.

 

“Oh, hey, Sherlock, I’m just going to go-“

 

“It’s alright if you want to go, John,”

 

“Okay, cool, I’ll be… Wait, what do you mean?”

 

Sherlock avoided John’s gaze and stared at the wooden flooring and shuffled his feet. John scrunched up his eyes in confusion and took a step towards Sherlock.

 

“Sherlock, what’s wrong?”

 

“It’s alright if you wish to leave. I’m surprised you’ve stayed this long, you, Molly, Lestrade. You’ve stayed much longer than I expected you to, but I guess I found where the line can’t be crossed.”

 

“Sherlock, I’m just going out to get take-out, what are you talking about? Did you really think I would leave just like that?”

 

Sherlock chanced a glance up at John, and what John saw broke his heart. Sherlock’s gaze seemed fractured but his face remained completely blank, whatever he was feeling was too great to hide completely. John gasped quietly and moved unconsciously to stand closer in front of Sherlock.

 

“Everyone else leaves.” Sherlock whispered. “Mummy died, Daddy left her when I was 3, Irene left, Victor left…”

 

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m not leaving, alright?” John reached up and put his hand against Sherlock’s face to try and comfort him, and Sherlock leaned into the touch, his eyes closing and his cheek warm under John’s touch. “We just need new food because who knows what biological dangers there are in the fridge now. I wasn’t going to leave indefinitely; after all we’ve been through, all these years that I’ve put up with you?”

 

Sherlock opened his eyes, and something seemed to change in the air. Their eyes locked, and John’s breath quickened to match his heartbeat. Sherlock’s eyes seemed to glow with an intensity that was unlike anything John had ever seen before, and he still wasn’t used to it after all these years. His pupils were dilated, and John registered in the back of his head somewhere that if he could see himself now, his pupils would be dilated too. John licked his lips subconsciously, and Sherlock’s eyes were immediately drawn to the movement, dark stormy blue eyes focusing. One second passed, two, three… John kept watching those eyes, and he saw it when something clicked in Sherlock’s head. Suddenly, Sherlock closed in the space in between their faces and his lips pressed against John’s lightly.

 

John’s heart leapt and quickened, and it took only a fraction of a second for his body to react. He pressed his lips harder against Sherlock’s and moved closer, melding closer into the kiss. It was chaste, soft, but it held so much meaning to John that he felt a bit dizzy. Sherlock brought up his arms and put his hands on John’s hips and John opened his mouth slightly, allowing for Sherlock to dive further into the kiss.

 

They broke apart a couple minutes later to find themselves completely pressed up against each other’s bodies, enclosed in each other’s embraces. John’s hand had moved to curl into Sherlock’s hair while Sherlock had a hand on his hip and another on the nape of his neck. They were panting and grinning giddily, and John reached up to put his forehead on Sherlock’s.

 

“I’m… So not leaving.”

 

Sherlock chuckled, his body relaxed when before it had been stiff and closed to John. John’s stomach growled once again, the moment breaking, and they laughed and pulled apart, but John kept Sherlock’s hand firmly grasped in his.

 

“We do still need new food, you know.”

 

“Yes, I guess that is something that has to be done. Eating is boring, though.” Sherlock answered, still grinning.

 

“You idiot.” John said affectionately, and let go and grabbed his wallet where he had left it. Sherlock trailed behind him, not seeming to want to let him get too far.

 

“Do you want to come with or stay here with your experiment?” John asked, one hand on the doorknob.

 

“I, uh…” Sherlock began, then looked around the flat. “No, I’ll stay here. I still need to go over certain things.” He paused. “You’ll… come back, though?”

 

“Yes, Sherlock. I’m not going away, trust me.”

 

Sherlock smiled so warmly that John couldn’t help but move back closer and press a quick kiss on Sherlock’s lips. He then turned to descend the stairs, and just before he turned the corner he looked back up at Sherlock, who held the door open and watched as John left. John couldn’t help but smile the whole time he was out. _I kissed Sherlock,_ he kept thinking over and over, _I finally kissed Sherlock Holmes._

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As John walked through the streets to the nearest grocery store, he kept touching his lips with his fingers. A small tingling graced them with the memory of the kiss, and John couldn't help but shake his head in wonder. After Christmas, the possibility of ever having an inkling of something more between Sherlock and him had seemed to all but disappear. Now, though... He wasn't sure what exactly they had but it definitely wasn't just friendship anymore, but calling Sherlock his boyfriend didn’t seem right.

 

“Happy day, is it?” Commented the old lady behind the cash register.

 

“You can say that, yeah.” John replied, grabbing the bags and running out. He walked quickly down the street back to the flat, and when the open windows that were spilling out light onto the sunset-cast street, his heart soared in excitement. He took out his spare key and unlocked the door and made his way inside, only to be stopped by the sight of Mrs. Hudson on the ground, unconscious.

 

“Mrs. Hudson! Sherlock! Mrs. Hudson’s unconscious!” John yelled at the stairs, dropping the bags in a heap and dashing to her side. She was already waking up, all-be-it slowly, and when her eyes finally focused she began to shake.

 

“Oh, John, I tried, I really did. They took him, those men, they took Sherlock!” She said, a slight tremor in her voice. John’s stomach felt like it dropped through the floor, and his eyes widened. “They shot the confundus spell and the flipendo spell at me, I couldn’t do anything, I didn’t have to time take out my wand!”

 

“It’s alright, Mrs. Hudson. I’ll find Sherlock.”

 

John stood up and climbed the stairs two steps at a time and burst into the flat. Everything was scattered everywhere, Sherlock’s current experiment in pieces on the ground. However, what really stood out was a neon pink post-it note hung on the yellow smiley face on the wall. He rushed to it and pulled it off, and had to read through it three times before he finally understood the words.

 

_I do believe Sherlock belongs to me, John, and if you think you’ll ever find him again… Well, no you won’t. No one ever gets to me. – JM_

 

John heard the stairs creak, and he whipped out his wand and pointed it at the open doorway. He relaxed slightly when he saw that it was Mycroft climbing the stairs, but the adrenaline in his body didn’t ebb his dread.

 

“Sherlock’s been kidnapped.” He told Mycroft, a bubble of panic beginning to rise in his throat. Mycroft paused to scan John’s face and then answered,

 

“I know he has, that’s why I’m here. I know where Moriarty is, but I strongly advise you to stay here.”

 

“I don’t care, tell me where they brought him!” John yelled ferociously, making Mycroft step back a little in shock.

 

“He brought Sherlock to some abandoned warehouses close to the Thames.” Mycroft held out his phone with a GPS map opened on it, “He has at least two other wizards with him.”

 

John nodded and memorized where the warehouses were and sprinted out, running onto the street and hailing a cab. He told the driver the address and impatiently waited for them to arrive. During the whole way there, different scenarios ran through his head on a loop. _Sherlock hurt, Sherlock bleeding, Sherlock… No, Moriarty isn’t that cruel… Or is he?... Sherlock hurt, Sherlock bleeding…_ It nearly drove John mad with fear of what he would find.

 

Once he was left alone in the parking lot in front, he slipped out his wand from his pocket and walked to the nearest door. He pointed his wand and thanked whatever gods there were that he had turned 16 and was able to cast magic legally, and whispered, “Alohomora.” The lock clicked and he opened the door slowly, making sure the hinges didn’t squeak, and slipped inside.

 

Some lights were on, on the far side of the warehouse, from what he could see through the towering shelves. John could hear a voice, speaking softly and laughing every couple sentences. John recognized it as Moriarty’s, and he shivered through the adrenaline. He crouched down and sneaked closer, watching his every step to try and stay as quiet as an owl on the hunt. After what seemed like forever, he found a gap in the last shelf that separated him from the group and looked through, and what he saw made his blood go ice-cold. Sherlock sat in a chair, his suit ripped open so that the white shirt beneath was exposed. He had a gash across his forehead, which seemed to bleed quite profusely, and a few other cuts and bruises were visible down his throat and led to whatever was hidden under the shirt. His hands and feet were tied back, and he was also tied to the chair around his waist. His mop of dark brown hair was matted with dirt and blood, and Sherlock seemed so _defeated_.

 

“Oh, Sherlock, tut tut. Really, I expected so much better from you. We really could’ve ruled the Wizarding world, you know. We could’ve shined, but instead you befriended them…” Moriarty leaned forward, and even if John couldn’t see his face he could imagine the sneer that twisted his face. He reached out to touch a single finger to Sherlock’s cheek, and a small pang of disgust ran through John at the obviously possessive touch. Sherlock growled slightly at the touch, and Moriarty pulled away quickly.

 

“Don’t like being touched, do you? I’m quite surprised. I was okay with Irene touching you, she was smart, but that John…” Moriarty blew out air through his mouth, “That John, he’s nothing compared to you, you can do so much better.”

 

“You underestimate John.” Came a quiet reply, and Moriarty froze.

 

“I can’t underestimate John, Sherlock, oh no. He’s one of them, he’s boring. He doesn’t think, none of them think, not like we do.” Moriarty said in a sing-song voice, beginning to stride slowly around Sherlock, almost as if he were dancing. Sherlock seemed to try and struggle against his bonds, which made Moriarty start to laugh. “They’re bound by spells, you should know that.”

 

John stopped watching and began to sneak his way to the end of the shelf and glance around it. They were now only about 30 metres away from John instead of 15, and Moriarty’s voice was a bit softer. When John poked his head around the shelf, Moriarty was now holding his wand in his palm, running his fingers up and down the length of it. He hid back behind the shelf and crouched down, running his hands through his hair. Now that he was there, he had no idea how he would save Sherlock.

 

An idea struck him, an idea so absurd and most likely impossible to do on his own. He thought back to all the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes he’s had over the years. He stood up and shook himself, preparing mentally for what he was about to do. He took a deep breath, and rushed out from behind the shelf and pointing his wand at the two wizards standing guard.

 

“Petrificus Totalus!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, pointing at the other and repeating. As the two wizards hit the ground, he turned and pointed his wand at Moriarty and in a split second thought he cried, “Protego!” as Moriarty whipped around and screamed in rage, “Imperio!”

 

John felt himself be knocked back by the powerful spell, but his shield held its own.

 

“Expelliarmus! Confundus!”

 

Moriarty could only watch in anger as his wand went flying out of reach and then get knocked to ground. He put his hands on his eyes and growled in frustration, and John ran up to him and stood above him and said, pointing at Sherlock’s bonds,

 

“Relashio.”

 

The ropes fell away, and John growled, “Incarcerous.” And guided the ropes to bind Moriarty on the floor. Far away in the distance the sound of police sirens ripped through the air, but John paid them no attention as he rushed to Sherlock, who was still slumped in the seat.

 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, look at me.” John begged, putting his palm on the side of his face that didn’t have any cuts. Sherlock raised his head and brought one of his arms weakly to rest on John’s shoulder, and his mind calmed at the touch.

 

“I told you I’d come back.”

 

Sherlock grinned through the pain, and John stood him up and put an arm around his waist. Mycroft came striding around the last shelf and quickly disarmed Moriarty and the two wizards, hiding their wands from sight as the police came running. Mycroft looked at his brother and confessed, “It’s good that you’re safe. John is really good for you, brother mine. You should maybe stay for the ambulance, but I believe I don’t have any power over you on that account”

 

“No, you don’t. Thank you, though.” Sherlock said softly while nodding, and together they walked out into the warm summer night air. Avoiding the police and the paramedics, they skirted around the hustle and bustle and hailed a cab. Once back at 221b, John set about healing Sherlock’s cuts with the Episkey spell.

Once most of the cuts and bruises were gone, John stood up to go change his shirt but Sherlock grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. John hesitated, but then he remembered the boundary that they had crossed earlier and he felt like he was soaring in happiness at the memory. He bent down and softly pressed his lips and against Sherlock’s, who answered back in earnest with his own kiss. John was then pulled into a tight hug, and he was only released a few minutes later. That night, and the rest of the days until John had to leave for his Grandmother’s, Sherlock would always hover close, not willing to leave too much space in between them, as if John was the sun and Sherlock a planet, caught in the swirling pull of gravity that was their relationship.


	13. Epilogue - Graduation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's been a long way coming (not really, but it feels longer) and I just want to say thank you thank you thank you for reading and being so loyal to the story. I know it's not the best, definitely not as good as PiaLR and A Finger Slip, but just the fact that so many people have viewed it as of now and how many kudos there are... It's really incredible. So thank you. I may be writing a kind of sequel, where the story is from Sherlock's point of view, and I may or may not write a little story about their adventures after Hogwarts, but we shall see. Read away, my fellow Johnlockers!!

The grounds were filled with rows upon rows of white chairs, the sun shone brightly in the baby blue summer sky, and the air was filled with voices of proud families gathering for the students’ final day at Hogwarts. Exams have been written, classes have been passed, students have been awarded their N.E.W.T.s, and all that was left was the big celebration.

 

John stood in the aisle between the rows, dressed up in a black suit with a matching black bow tie. A wide smile seemed to permanently etch itself on his face, and he observed his surrounding students with a feeling of pride and delight at how much they’d all grown over the past eight years. He nodded to Samantha, the Ravenclaw girl he had spoken to a few times over the years, and to Aranalyn, a fellow Hufflepuff whom he hadn’t really gotten to know half as well as he would’ve liked. Aranalyn joined him in the aisle and observed the crowd around them.

 

“Waiting for your parents?” She asked, waving to a Gryffindor whom John didn’t remember his name.

 

“Yeah, they’re muggles so they need to have some spells cast on them so that they can come in.” John replied, searching for a familiar face in the crowd.

 

“So, what are you planning to do after? Anything with Sherlock?”

 

“God yes.” John turned to her and smiled wider, a small bubble of happiness rising in his chest. “We’re moving together into the flat that he has in London, it’s kinda close to St. Mungo’s so I’ll be able to have my training while he goes off to become an auror.”

 

“Oh, he’ll be perfect for that! I’m actually going to go and work for the Ministry of Magic, gosh, I’m so happy I actually achieved the N.E.W.T.s I needed.”

 

“Well, you worked hard. You’ll be going on with Marilyssa? She’s in… Slytherin, right?” John guessed.

 

“Yes, she is. I’m so proud of her… And speaking of people we love, there’s Sherlock.” She pointed at the crowd milling about higher up on the hill, her long blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. “He’s talking to Amelie, you know the Ravenclaw Chaser? They’re over there.”

 

“Yeah, I know her. Thanks, Ari… I can call you Ari, right?” He asked, starting to walk away backwards towards Sherlock.

 

“Of course, any time. I’ll be based in London, maybe we’ll see each other again.”

 

John nodded and turned, and he strode towards his boyfriend with a spring in his step. Other 8th years acknowledged him as he walked, and when he came close Sherlock noticed him and his face softened, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

 

“Hello, John!” Amelie greeted warmly, reaching out to give him a hug.

 

“Hey, Amelie. God, I can’t believe it’s the last day!”

 

“I know! It’s incredible, it went by so fast, and now you two are off to London and I’m off to Canada…”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes at their conversation as John raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, Canada, that’s far away.”

 

“Yeah, I’m from there anyway, so it won’t be too much of a change. Alright, well, I’ll see you two later on, I have to go now. Bye!” She yelled as she ran towards the top of the hill. John turned back to Sherlock, who was smiling down at him.

 

“Why are you smiling?” John asked affectionately, bumping into Sherlock’s side.

 

“Because you’re an adorable man.”

 

John’s face lit up in surprise, and Sherlock laced his fingers through John’s.

 

“You’re pretty sentimental today. Is it the graduation nerves affecting you?”

 

“Don’t be absurd, John.”

 

John’s name was called, and they glanced up at Harry, who was weaving her way through the crowd with Clara, and John’s parents were close behind in tow. They all greeted each other; for it was the first time they had seen each other since March Break. Mr. Watson shook Sherlock’s hand while Sherlock’s other hand was still clasped in John’s. When it was close to when the celebration would start, John and Sherlock made their way to the rows in the front while the Watson family went to find other seats. When Dumbledore called for quiet, John was nudged by Sherlock, and they turned to see that Mycroft had arrived and was sitting in the back. Sherlock let out a small breath, and John squeezed his fingers in understanding. They turned back to listen to the teachers, one by one, as they made their speeches. Then, with a flick of his wand, Dumbledore made birds fly up from behind the raised platform and fly around with ribbons and flowers. It was a delight to everyone, and John wondered about the experience that his family was having with all of this.

 

“I still wonder why I was put into Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor.” John whispered to Sherlock, who turned his head slightly to look at John in consideration.

 

“I would’ve thought that was obvious, even for you.” He answered.

 

“How?”

 

“Well, yes, you’re brave, much braver than any other person I know, but you also have a heart, John. A heart that cares so much for everyone around you. You’re loyalty and compassion surpasses anything else. That’s why you’re in Hufflepuff; it’s the home of those with a kind heart.”

 

John didn’t answer, but he smiled slowly in the realization. He felt giddy with happiness, all the day’s culminating events catching up to him fully, and he squeezed Sherlock’s fingers. Finally, it came time when students were to be called up to accept their degree. They were called in alphabetical order, so Sherlock was called up before John. John clapped along with the rest of the crowd as Sherlock took his piece of paper and regarded it with a slight air of annoyance. He went to stand beside a Slytherin named Amed, and they nodded to each other. Finally, John was called up, and he made his way up the stairs onto the platform, which was filled with the rest of the students. He grinned at Professor Dumbledore and Professor Sprout, and accepted the rolled up parchment. He made his way to Sherlock’s side and opened it, seeing the gleaming golden lettering listing all his N.E.W.T.s and his full name written out in silver, with the word HUFFLEPUFF in glowing yellow under it. He raised his head and spotted his family in the crowd and waved. As Dumbledore spoke the last words of his speech, he waved his wand and fireworks flew up into the sky, orange with the now setting sun.

The students cheered, and they grabbed their wizard hats off their heads and threw them up into the air. As the hats began to make their descent, Sherlock’s fingers insistently tugged on John’s cloak. He glanced up into his lover’s face and at the gleaming blue-green eyes. Sherlock bent down and pressed his lips on John’s, and John’s heart leapt in his chest. Their days at Hogwarts had ended, but they had their whole lives ahead of them, and John had a feeling that they would be as full of adventures as it had been since he first got that letter when he was 11 years old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to acknowledge my friends, (they know who they are) who have put up with me not shutting up about this story for the past month or so, and especially my friend Sammy, who was my little guinea pig for each chapter since the very beginning when I started to write it. I love you guys, and I love YOU, whoever is reading.


End file.
